


Landslide

by jscribbles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas uses social services, Dean is an asshole sometimes, F/M, Graphic Violence, Happy Ending, Homelessness, M-rated language, Poverty, always-a-female-vessel-cas, baby stealing monster, cis!female!Castiel, daddy!dean cuteness, descriptive hetero smut, fallen angel/human/mortal Castiel, pregnant and homeless, s9 divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:46:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles
Summary: When Ezekiel ordered Dean to shun Castiel from the bunker--back out into the world with no home--Dean was determined to offer her resources; money, documentation, Jody's roof over her head, and a route to follow. However, Castiel never gave him the chance to help, disappearing before Dean could even get off the phone with Jody.A year later, Dean and Sam take a case in Ann Arbor, hoping to slay the monster that's been kidnapping and mutating small children in a nearby cavern. The case leads them to the nanny, who discovered the bloody, gruesome scene of a murder and child kidnapping. However, Dean's world is flipped upside down when the nanny turns out to be a familiar face.Castiel's got a job, a place to stay, and she'd ditched the dirty hoodie and green t-shirt. She's got a whole life for herself...and Dean is thrown when Cas is less than pleased that he's in it once again.Why is she so insistent that he and Sam leave the town, lose her number, and why is there a screaming newborn in her apartment?





	1. You Can't Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my submission for the DeanCas Mini Bang 2019! :D
> 
> Thanks, firstly, to the mods for running this challenge. Everyone was lovely and the processes were very easy.
> 
> BIG OL' THANKS to my cheerleaders son_of_a_bitch_spn_family and malmuses, and a BIIIIIIG ol' thanks to my beta CRNoble. Y'all are the fuckin' best.
> 
> AND FINALLY, LAST BUT NOT LEAST, THANK YOU TO MY ARTIST NATHYFAITH who made the cutest fucking art and was also a cheerleader part-time. She was such a doll to work with and was just as enthusiastic about this story as I was. 10/10 recommend Nathy because she is spectacular.
> 
> To see all her art in one place, please check out the art masterpost here: https://nathyfaith.tumblr.com/post/186177540988/deancas-mini-bang-fanart-for-the-upcoming-fic
> 
> Enjoy!

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Dean tried to keep his eyes on the road, watching the yellow partition dashes painted on the road as they blurred and disappeared under the car, but it was a struggle as he naturally glanced up at the rear-view mirror. He watched his friend sitting in the backseat and watched her stare out the window. She pressed her hand to her chest where she’d been stabbed, wincing, even though Ezekiel had healed the flesh and bone completely. Her fingers massaged the skin there, pushed through the unbuttoned neckline of the light blue button-up she wore under the deep red hoodie and dark blue cargo jacket. He wondered where she’d gotten that clothing and what’d happened to her typical get-up.

He missed the trenchcoat.

Her hair was longer now, more wild. She’d always been somewhat put together, Castiel, in her suit and trench, with her brown waves just past her clavicle and somewhat messy, but neatly so, as if her vessel had styled her hair that way purposely. Now, the long, thin split ends hung off the curve of her chest, tickling her ribs, flapping back and forth as the Impala swayed and jutted over bumps in the road.

She looked lost in thought, but he supposed that came with the territory when one had just been tricked in a stranger’s home, stabbed, killed, and then brought back to life. Granted, neither she nor Sam knew that she’d died, but he knew that dying left a strange sensation in the body, like a dark, dull tingle.

Dean looked back toward the road when Castiel’s big blue eyes, now over dark circles that were darker than when she was an angel, turned to meet his in the mirror.

Sam talked her ear off the entire drive, explaining how they’d found her, about how they knew it was her as soon as they found out a Claire Winchester had been making her way from shelter to shelter, and was being followed by angel attacks.

Castiel nodded and offered her usual short, raspy replies. She was, although mortal now, her typical self. Homelessness and being on the run hadn’t changed her a bit. Dean didn’t know why he’d expected her to be different; it had only been six months since the fall of the angels. How much could’ve changed in Cas other than her hair and the fact that she didn’t have makeup on anymore? Her vessel had always worn makeup, and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that the moment Cas was responsible for her own appearance, she ditched the mascara and blue-tied getup. He couldn’t imagine it had been too comfortable to walk around in those black pointed business heels all the time. When they reached the bunker and Cas got out, he was amused to see she was wearing a pair of ugly, dirty, green high-top knock-off Converse on her feet.

She explained to them, as they unloaded the trunk and trudged down the bunker steps, that she’d run out of the cash in her vessel’s wallet fairly quickly. Three-days kinda quickly. Dean nearly tripped down a flight of stairs when she admitted she’d been homeless for six-goddamn-months.

“You forget how to use a phone or what?” Dean snapped, scowling at her when they all dropped the weapons and duffels on the map table. “You shoulda called us, Cas!”

The former angel blinked at him. “My battery was dead.”

“Your battery…” Dean turned to Sam, his face unimpressed, gesturing to a perplexed looking Castiel with a flail of his arm. “Her battery was dead, did you hear that?”

Sam winced sympathetically at Cas, who shrugged again. “It was,” she said to him. Then she tilted her head and her brows furrowed. “Did you not hear the dial tone when you called?”

Sam’s eyebrows went up so high on his forehead, Dean was surprised they didn’t merge as one with his hairline. Sam raised his hands as if to excuse himself from the potential blow up, then busied himself with emptying weapons from a cargo bag.

Dean’s heart sunk. “Uh, well, I didn’t get a chance to call, Cas. We were kinda busy and we figured you could handle yourself.”

“I can,” she said proudly. “I discovered that staying alive as a mortal is much harder than I imagined, but I found out most things on my own, eventually.”

Again, Dean’s heart sunk.

“Well, yeah.” He cleared his throat, his chin dipping down to his chest as he busied himself emptying a handful of angel blades from his bang. “Good for you.”

“May I use your shower?” Castiel asked suddenly, her eyes wide like she’d just remembered showers existed. She looked between Dean and Sam. “I’d love to shower. I, um, did at Avery’s, but the sex and the torture made me feel very sweaty.”

While her tone was light and conversational, almost curious, it made Sam drop a glass jar of holy water all over the floor and Dean fumbled to catch a box of salt rounds in his arms.

“You--fuck, Sam, that’s a mess--I mean, Cas, you, _what?”_ Dean choked out, looking between Sam struggling to walk over shards of glass and Castiel, who looked surprised.

Castiel turned her head to survey Dean. “He tortured me, that’s why I was bound to a chair when you found me--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted quickly, waving his hand through the air. “I mean the first part. You did _what_ with the reaper?”

“Oh,” she said, her shoulders relaxing. “Yes, I had sex with the reaper. It didn’t know he was a reaper at the time. Perhaps he wasn’t… I’m unsure when he took possession of that vessel--” Castiel paused, tapping at her bottom lip and looking thoughtful. “Which raises a variety of different consent issues, though I suppose him taking me in from the rain and having sex with me is also a consent issue. Humanity is very messy, I’m discovering, though I did enjoy the sex at the time. He brought my body to orgasm three times, I believe.”

She had three orgasms...with a reaper.

Dean stared at her dumbly while Sam puttered around the kitchen behind them, casually dropping things like a freakin’ virgin every time Castiel mentioned the word ‘sex’.

“Yuh-huh,” Dean said, nodding slowly. Then he pointed an angel blade at her and cleared his throat. “Right. Well, uh, glad you enjoyed yourself. Or, uh, fuck, I dunno if that was the right thing to say. Uh, consent-stuff notwithstanding.”

The two of them stood awkwardly around the war table, then Sam cried out from the kitchen. “Showers are down the hall and down the stairs, Cas!”

“Right,” Dean laughed, waving the blade loftily again. “Uh, just grab a towel from under the cabinet in the bathroom and, uh, y’know, have at it.”

“Thank you,” Cas said with a short little nod of her head. She walked around the broken glass and disappeared.

As soon as the clapping of her converse over the smooth floor faded to nothing, Dean and Sam both made noises of alarm. Dean swept into the kitchen and Sam rested on the island. Granted, Sam was grinning, while Dean looked shell shocked.

“Can you believe her?” he choked out.

“She had three orgasms,” Sam pointed out in awe, “her first time. That _never_ happens.”

Well, fuck. That wasn’t quite what Dean was about to point out. He’d been about to express dismay that she’d been homeless for six months but hadn’t called for help or contacted them at all. But hell, now all Dean could think about was Cas under that tall, slender redheaded reaper, legs around his waist--

“I guess it _was_ her first time, huh?” he pointed out, feeling a bit sick.

“I mean,” Sam shrugged, gesturing at Dean with the broom he was holding in his hand, “unless she’d did it with that random amnesia-fuelled husband she had like two years ago. But I kinda doubt it, you said they were weirdly religious, right?”

Absentmindedly, Dean nodded. “Yeah. I guess they were. Uh, anyway,” Dean pushed away from the counter, “I should probably wash her clothes, that button up had some blood splatters on it.”

With a nod, Sam swept around the counter, towards the mess of glass still scattered across the war-room floor.

”Yup, and give her something to wear in the meantime.”

***

“Cas?” Dean yelled out into the steamy shower room, a hand over his eyes. “You naked?”

“Yes,” Cas said back, sounding cheerful, “but only under a towel. And you don’t have to yell, I’m right here.”

Surprised, Dean lowered his hand and opened his eyes. Cas was, indeed, kind of naked, her bits hidden under a towel that was wrapped around her. He worked extra hard to keep his eyes on her face and not stare at the top of her thighs, visible under the bottom edge of the towel. He’d seen her naked before, and hell, it was hard to forget a naked chick covered in bees sitting on your car, but this time she had water droplets running down her skin and wet hair thrown over one shoulder. This was an entire other kind of naked to try and forget.

“Right.” Dean stepped into the bathroom and gracelessly shoved a pile of folded clothing at her. “I figured you might want something else to wear, ‘cause I’m gonna throw your stuff in the wash.”

When Castiel frowned and stared at him, Dean added, “‘Cause it’s got blood on it and I was gonna throw some of my own stuff in now anyway. Thought I’d get two birds with one stone and stuff.”

It was a lie. He had exactly zero laundry to do except the clothes on his back. Whatever, she didn’t have to know that.

Castiel looked confused, but she took the clothing anyway, her chapped, dry lips quirking up in the corner, conceding to a small, grateful smile.

“Thank you, Dean. That’s thoughtful,” she said quietly. Then she turned, set the clothing on the counter, and picked up a small hair brush. Dean, for some reason, didn’t move, and instead, he watched her yank at her hair, which looked and sounded really painful. He winced.

Forgetting that this was a human girl now, Dean walked up to her and peered around her shoulder.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, scowling at the little hairbrush. It was the size of her palm, with a handle not longer than a Bic lighter, and was pink with cartoon letters saying ‘You Go, Girl!’ on the back.

Castiel pulled it away from herself and surveyed the little thing. She looked up at him and smiled, her teeth peeking just a bit. “My hairbrush. They gave it to me at one of the shelters during an event. A charity donated care bags with deodorant, a razor, a travel toothbrush and toothpaste, and this foldable hair brush. It’s compact, I enjoy it. I don’t quite think brushing your hair is supposed to hurt, but I might also be going about it completely wrong. I initially thought about throwing out the razor, but the other women at the shelter told me I’m supposed to shave certain places on my body.” Cas wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I don’t exactly understand the function of that; body hair is meant to regulate body temperature. It seemed counterproductive to be rid of it, but I did want to fit in…”

While Cas prattled on about how stupid she thought some human customs were, Dean felt sick again, hearing about Cas stay in a shelter, hearing that she hadn’t thought to buy that stuff for herself or couldn’t afford to.

His hands shook as he nudged her aside and ducked under the counter, wordlessly rifling through the contents.

“...and tampons were something I hadn’t even known existed, but the other women staying at the shelter were very helpful. They didn’t seem to understand how I had never used them before, but after some hands on instruction, they assisted me. I managed to get one in comfortably after my third attempt...” Cas went on, completely either ignoring or missing Dean’s face as it turned bright red. “...I must say, after the comments you used to make about me being grumpy because of PMS, I felt mislead about the syndrome. Not only are there mood swings but all manner of bodily pain. Did you know ‘cramps’ are a thing? The first time I experienced them, I cried. It was unexpected, to cry. I don’t believe I’ve ever cried from pain before. Despite knowing nothing is permanent and pain is a mere sensation, I felt like they would never end and they made it hurt to walk, or sit, or lay down, I--”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted loudly, jumping to his feet and gesturing for her to stand in front of the foggy mirror. “Stand here and please stop talking to me about periods.”

Cas looked suspicious, but she stood in front of the mirror and watched Dean through narrowed eyes when he wiped at the glass with his hand and then moved to stand behind her. With Sam’s hairbrush in his hands, he grabbed some hair in his fist and started brushing her hair from the tips, slowly moving up the strands, tugging gently.

“Oh,” Cas said in surprise. “That doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, working methodically. “You gotta start from the end and go up.”

He didn’t tell her that he’d learned this from Lisa, and Cas didn’t ask.

“Just don’t tell Sam I’m brushing your hair,” Dean muttered in addition, pressing his hand to her head as he pulled the brush through a long section of hair. “He’d never let me live it down.”

“Of course,” Cas agreed, watching Dean in the streaked mirror. “Because men aren’t allowed to participate in or tolerate ‘feminine’ activities without ridicule. Like how you didn’t want me to talk about menstruation. Uh, “periods”, I mean.”

Her comment was probably entirely meant to be without malice, but Dean felt immediately guilty. He knew she was right. He was being a dick and a coward.

“Sorry,” Dean sighed. “Hard habits to shake, y’know? You can, uh, talk about your period if you want.”

“It’s all right,” Cas said. When Dean looked up, Cas was smirking a bit, and then Dean realised she’d done it all on purpose. She’d been teasing him. She looked back at herself in the mirror, but then added with sincerity, “Human women are extraordinary. More so than I ever knew. The things their bodies can endure are awe-inspiring. Pain, joy. They can carry children and yet fight in battles as equals to all who fight with them. And, despite the social norms in place that are so damaging, they persevere.”

Dean picked up another clump of hair, setting the finished piece over her shoulder, out of the way. Listening to her speak, her raspy voice echoing in the bathroom, listening to her little accidental speech, made him feel a swell of pride for her, for being so perceptive, for rising above the adversities she’d already faced in only six months...and he felt intense guilt for acting like a complete dick about it.

“Yeah,” Dean offered, smiling up at her. “Women shall inherit the earth, right?”

His heart slammed into his chest as Cas grinned at him in the mirror, the silly expression on her face making Dean’s knees feel weak.

“Likely a comet will end all life on this planet, so no one will inherit the earth, but it’s ‘the thought that counts,’” Cas replied, using finger quotes. Then she glanced up at the ceiling and asked, “That _is_ the saying, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “That’s the saying. You nailed that one, Cas.”

“I’m trying,” Cas said quietly as Dean ran the brush through her hair once more, trying to catch any tangles. “I’m trying to fit in. References, brushing my hair, shaving, having sex... It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

The brush paused halfway through a bundle of hair and Dean’s hand rested on her arm. He turned her a bit, aware that they were standing close, but more preoccupied with catching her eye.

“Hey,” he said firmly, tilting his chin down and staring into her wide blue gaze. “You don’t have to have sex with anybody you don’t want to. And you don’t gotta understand references, and shave your body, or none of that shit, if you don’t want to. People who love you are gonna like you anyways.”

“But I don’t have powers anymore,” Castiel replied back. She frowned and asked in complete seriousness, “What is there to like?”

What the hell did someone say to that? Dean’s mouth gaped for a second, then he said with vigor, his eyes narrowing, “Fuck powers, Cas. You got other stuff that matters. I’m gonna say it again; people who love you will love you without powers.”

The two of them stared at each other and suddenly, Dean became almost entirely aware that they were standing too close. Personal space that he’d warned her about many years ago was basically eradicated and Dean immediately understood that he didn’t care. He fell right into those blue eyes and unlike before, when she was an angel and it was wrong, when he’d try to climb and crawl back up, to fight it, now he just freefell into them. Fuck it, they were human, they were equals--

Castiel looked away and patted the clothing he’d left for her. “Thank you, Dean. For the clothing, and for brushing my hair. I won’t tell Sam.”

Dean snorted, diverting his gaze down the long, strong brush that now had wads of impossibly long, wispy brown hair. He yanked at it and threw the clumps into the trash.

“You can tell Sam, I don’t really care. Just don’t tell him I used his brush, ‘cause he’ll kick my ass. Maybe tomorrow we go out and buy you your own.” Dean kneeled down, nudging her leg to get her to move again, so he could put the brush back into Sam’s toiletries bin. “Might as well grab you other stuff too. Drop by Walmart and just get it all done in one go. Getcha some clothes and other crap.”

He stood and gestured to her pathetic ziplock back that was filled and stretched to the brim with travel sized everything. “Some, like, toothpaste and stuff, ‘cause I see you’re almost out. And I mean, we can get you one of those fancy chick razors with a canister of that good shaving cream, the one that they charge like three times more for ‘cause it’s pink. But I mean, like I said, you don’t have to do any of that crap, Cas.”

Dean sucked in a breath, a bit breathless after his nervous rant. To his chagrin, Cas was standing in front of him with a smile on her face.

“You’re going to make a great teacher, Dean,” she said happily. “There are few other humans I’d rather learn humanity from. Thank you. I’d love to go to Walmart with you.” She paused. “I don’t have money though.”

“Eh,” Dean waved his hand before shoving it into his pocket nervously. “Technically, Sam and I don’t either, so that just makes you one of us.”

“Equals,” she murmured, staring at his face way too intensely for the magnitude of the conversation topic.

“‘Course,” Dean nodded. “Equals.”

Again, they stared at each other.

Then Cas shuddered a bit and Dean realised she was still very naked, kinda damp, and the steam in the room had cleared. The mirror wasn’t even foggy anymore.

After spotting the goosebumps on her skin, Dean stepped back and began to leave the room. He snatched up her clothing from the bench beside the showers, purposefully not looking at the purple underwear hanging out of the pant leg and the polka-dot bra strap tangled in the blood-stained shirt. “Uh, you gotta be getting cold. Finish up in here and get changed. I’ll just, uh, throw this in the wash. Come get me in my room when you’re done, and I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

Last thing he saw was Cas turn back to the mirror and run her fingers through her hair, smiling.

***

The knocking on the door made Dean close the book in his lap and set it aside. He hadn’t been reading it anyway, just staring at the same four lines while thinking about Cas’ cool, goosebumped skin under his hand and her freshly showered hair and the tops of her thighs under the towel. He’d been also thinking about how she’d suffered, homeless, poor, staying in shelters and being intensely grateful when a stranger gave her a crappy travel hairbrush and some toothpaste. It made his stomach ache.

So he was glad when he could get up and walk over to the door, and see her smiling at him when he looked out into the hallway. The vision of her smiling as inspiring as always, because Castiel smiled so fleetingly, but hell, he’d be okay if she continued to smile for the rest of their lives.

“I’m clean,” she said, and she held out her arms. “And clothed. Your t-shirt is loose on me, but that’s all right?”

His Rob Zombie t-shirt was more than all right on her, as were the sweats that he’d given her. The waist was elastic so he figured they would do, and they were about the same height so the fit was all right. As she stepped into the room, Dean scanned her form and pressed his hands to his hips, wondering what kinda ass and thighs he had if their clothes fit the same.

Dean shut the door behind her and turned to survey her as she walked around his room, running her hands over his dresser and peering at the photo of him and Mary on the nightstand. “Yeah, that’s fine, Cas. As long as you’re comfortable. I, uh, threw your stuff in the wash, then the dryer, but the dryer is ancient and kinda takes forever. Your stuff’ll be dry by the morning.”

“Thank you again, Dean.”

He stood with his back against the closed door, and Dean rubbed at his jawline, feeling undeserving of the thanks.

“I got the room next door all set up for you. Kevin usually stores his notes in there, but I moved the boxes into his room for now. He’s not using it, and when he comes back, he can cart them off somewhere else. We got a ton of rooms he can put his boxes in.”

Cas nodded but made no move to leave the room. She was running her hands over his hoodies that all hung neatly on hooks in the corner of his room.

“I was thinking about what you said,” she said lightly, “about having sex with people I want to have sex with--”

Dean’s heart got stuck in his throat, and he ran a hand over his Adam’s apple, forcing the sensation away. Hopeful thoughts in his mind about the direction of her comment were crushed.

She turned to stare at him, her hands resting down at her sides. “I perceived that I’d upset you with my comments about consent and Avery. I just want to make it clear, Dean; I wanted to have sex with him.”

Oh. That certainly hadn’t been the direction Dean’s heart had hoped for.

She watched him carefully. “My body was easily aroused by him, and I don’t exactly know if he was possessed yet during our time together. He was very good to me, Dean. Very kind, very gentle.”

Dean suddenly hoped that she would start talking about her period instead. But Cas carried on and Dean’s heart sunk even more.

“I just don’t want you to think I was forcibly coerced,” she urged, fingers rubbing at her palms beside her thighs. “My experience was very pleasant. He was good at kissing--I think. I have limited knowledge on the subject, other than my experiences with Meg and my husband, and that one sex worker you paired me with when you believed Raphael would kill me. Anyway, Avery was a fine sex partner.”

Dean was so tempted to ask her to stop, but he’d already been a dick about the period thing. Instead of making one more thing for him to be guilty about, Dean asked tightly, “Did you have protection?”

Her brows nearly connected as she frowned and scowled in confusion. “I had my angel blade.”

It took everything in him not to laugh or groan. Dean’s brows raised and his lips twitched a bit, the faint bubble of amusement in his throat when he replied, “Your angel blade? Cas, I meant condoms. Did he use a condom?”

“Oh.”

It was Cas’ turn to blush. Her cheeks tinged a big red and her eyes darted around the room for a moment, then she seemed to visibly steel herself and reply conversationally, “We didn’t engage in penetrative sex, he decided to make me orgasm with his mouth instead--Dean, are you all right?”

She rushed forward when Dean choked on his own spit, gasping for air and clapping at his chest. He waved her off, his eyes tearing up from lack of oxygen.

“I’m fine,” he choked out.

But Cas’ eyes were wide.

“Was he not supposed to do that?” she asked, sounding unsure. “Is it not normal that I enjoyed that? I must admit, I don’t recall it happening much in pornography. There’s usually more of an emphasis on fellatio--"

Hollow sounds cut Cas off as Dean thumped at his chest a few more times, then gasped out, “Yeah, Cas, it’s fine! You’re totally normal, it’s a...thing people do.”

“Oh, okay,” she replied, stepping away. While Dean caught his breath, Cas walked away from him again, returning to her curious rummaging of his stuff. Dean went over to the sink to fill a glass with water. His mouth felt dried out, his face hot. He drank an entire glass and then turned around.

To his horror, she had picked up a book from the ledge behind his bed and turned it in her hands. Dean didn’t react fast enough. The big book dropped open and his latest issue of Busty Asian Beauties flopped open in the middle. Dean froze as the centerfold stared up at Cas.

To his credit, Cas didn’t give much away with her face. Instead, she set the book back on the ledge but held onto the magazine.

“Uh, I totally forgot that was there,” Dean lied, stammering his way through his sentence, and feeling heat spread across his cheeks.

Holding it open, Cas turned the magazine in the air, tilting her head to follow the angle of the picture.

“She’s all shaved,” Cas pointed out. “She’s very smooth, and her breasts are alarmingly symmetrical.”

Humiliated, Dean surged forward and snatched the magazine from her, clearing his throat. “Uh, well, yeah, some chicks are, I guess.” He ducked and lifted his mattress, shoving the magazine underneath. “It doesn’t matter--”

“Is that the kind of woman you desire?”

The air was sucked from the room. It could have been a completely innocent question, but Dean and Castiel stared at each other, and it was obvious that nothing about the question was innocent. Cas almost seemed hurt, almost seemed anxious. Her blue eyes were wide, and her body language was guarded.

“No,” he said, then immediately regretted his lie when Cas’s gaze faltered and she nodded, stepping away. She could see through his bullshit, so he quickly amended, “Well...yes. I get turned on by those women but I also, uh, desire other things. Things I can’t find in a magazine. Things that are asymmetrical and not so smooth and not touched up on Photoshop.”

“I understand,” Castiel replied simply.

She smelled good and it was honestly rather unfair how the Rob Zombie shirt looked better on her than it did on him. Almost immediately, Dean stepped away, understanding that standing this close to her, and realizing that there might be a reciprocation of his feelings was just trouble.

“You’re probably exhausted,” Dean said loudly, turning from her and walking towards the door. “I changed the sheets, so they’re all turned down and stuff. If you want me to put a TV in there--Kevin’s--tell me now before Kevin comes back someday soon and demands it back--whoa.”

Dean turned around quickly when cool fingers wrapped around his hand. To his surprise, Cas was sitting on the edge of his bed and she’d leaned forward, grasping his hand before he could make it to the door. She stayed extended, holding his hand between them. Dean blinked at her.

“Is everything okay--”

Cas licked her lips. “Dean, do you do that thing with women too?”

He had no idea what she was talking about, so he asked slowly, “What thing?”

“The ‘totally normal thing’ that people do,” Castiel replied, her eyes a bit wide. “The thing that Avery did to me.”

Holy shit. Castiel was asking him if he ate pussy.

“Uh,” Dean said smartly.

“Is that a personal question that I shouldn’t ask?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty gutsy, Cas,” Dean chuckled, raising his free hand to rub at his hair. He couldn’t help it, he felt a bit dazed. “But, uh, yeah, I do...go down on girls.” He shrugged at her, feeling like a deer in headlights. “I guess I like it. It’s fun?”

Cas stared at him. Dean stared back and stamped down that annoying, persistent flicker of light in his chest that felt strongly of hope.

Then Cas’ fingers linked with his and everything went downhill in the best way.

“Would you…” She licked her lips, nervous, her eyes wide. She curled the fingers of one hand into air quotes. “...”go down” on me?”

Holy shit.

Castiel jerked her hand back, looking stunned and a little apologetic, and Dean realised he’d said ‘holy shit’ out loud.

“Are you… Cas, you can’t just come out and ask people that!”

She scowled. “Why not? You have sexual relations with lots of human women, why not me?”

 _‘Sexual relations with human women’_ ; Give it to Cas to make his casual hookups sound like something from a sci-fi movie.

Then she added, “And I’m not asking _people,_ I’m asking you.”

Dean pulled away and waved his hands in the air. “Cas, I told you; you don’t have to have sex with people to fit in. You can just be you and that’s awesome enough.”

Cas looked away and scowled at the handle of his nightstand, staring at it intensely. Slowly, she murmured, “When I was with Avery, the entire time I was trying to imagine you instead.”

Castiel’s seemingly easy confession made Dean freeze as he turned towards the door. Slowly, he rounded back on her and shamelessly gawked.

“What?”

Cas looked over at him again, her eyes intense on his face. “I always thought, if I had the power to choose who I had sex with, it would be with you.” She faltered, eyelashes fluttering. “I was weak in the moment with Avery; I wanted it, I was lonely, and I felt attraction to him, but he wasn’t you. I consoled my guilt by considering it practice. For--” she made air quotes again “-- “the real thing”.”

“Why me?” Dean asked, finding his voice. He’d had to reach down into the pit of his stomach to get it, but he’d found it eventually.

Cas looked at him, her features slowly contorting in confusion. Dean knew exactly what she was thinking, but in the usual fashion, he tried to drown the very thought.

“Since I raised you from Hell, we have had a profound bond, Dean,” she explained, borderline scoffing. “Our relationship has been strife with disagreements and tension, but it has also been full of loyalty, and respect, and love. You said I’m family, once, but I don’t think you meant that.”

Dean reeled back, raising a finger, his face twisted in offence. “Whoa, of course, I meant--”

Castiel’s was unmoved, her eyes intense on his face. “I am not family like Sam is family, or Bobby, or Jody. And I am not a friend like that Charlie you reference, or Garth. I have fought against my feelings for you for years because it would be morally wrong--”

“Morally wrong?” Dean repeated, blinking hard. “How the fuck so?”

Cas tilted her chin down and suddenly the mood shifted. Carefully, she explained, “Dean, I was more powerful than you by measures you will never be able to understand. It would have been a power imbalance that reciprocal relationships, to my understanding, should not experience. I was stronger, faster, I had powers. It would be wrong. I would be taking advantage of you.”

Dean leaned back against the door, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. He wanted to laugh, or cry, either one. He’d been pushing away his feelings for Cas since day one because he’d felt like he would’ve been taking advantage of _her_ , not the other way around. She hadn’t been human, she had magnificent, celestial powers and knowledge. Essentially, the girl had stuff to do, and by falling in love with her, and allowing her to fall in love back, he worried he would’ve been more of a risk to her than he already was. The angels, the demons, the monsters that went bump in their life, they’d use him against her. He hadn’t wanted to be a problem for her. Also, he figured that if she did return the feelings, he’d been taking advantage of her because angels, perhaps, didn’t feel the same as humans did. Maybe by letting her fall for him, he’d been taking advantage of her lack of emotional knowledge.

“But,” Castiel went on, after Dean’s reverie filled an entire minute with silence and a heavy, emotional gaze that neither of them broke, “tonight you said people that love me will love me without my powers.” Dean held his breath, and his heart fluttered in his chest. Castiel smiled a bit and asked quietly, “Right?”

The breath whooshed out of his lungs, and Dean nodded, his shoulders relaxing, the tension in his chest diffusing suddenly.

“Right,” he whispered.

“And we’re equals now,” she pointed out.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Equals.”

She was right, he realised. They were both humans, both armed with the same strength, and stamina, and skills. They were flesh and bone. Cas had a heartbeat just like he did. Her hair needed brushing, she got goosebumps when it was cold, and she’d had sex with random people when she was lonely. It didn’t really get more human than that...

And she’d imagined Dean the whole time he’d been with that other guy. Just like he imagined her when he was with other girls. Other girls with long brown hair and freckled, tan skin...

His feet pattered over the hard cement floor of his room, the footsteps slowing to a stop in front of Cas, who tilted her head back to gaze at him.

He didn’t deserve her. She was a warrior, even now as a human, and she was a leader. She was one of the most powerful beings he’d ever met, but for some fucking reason they were bonded and she wanted him. It occurred to him that he was a piece of shit who didn’t call her for six months, assuming she could take care of herself, assuming she’d be fine while he dealt with Zeke and Sam’s recovery from the trials. It occurred to him that he didn’t deserve to cash in on her reciprocating feelings, but Castiel rose to her feet in front of him, and when she dragged her fingernails through his hair and stepped forward into his space, pressing her lips to his, all self-hatred faded away.

Their lips slid across each other’s, making wet sounds in the silence of his room. Their breaths hitched and picked up as heads turned and noses bumped, but most importantly, their lips slotted together and opened for one another. Dean remembered that when they had been in the bathroom, Cas had expressed uncertainty in her own judgment of what a good kiss felt like, but fuck, she was a good kisser. Gentle with the landing, every time her lips pulled away and then moved back in, but rough when needed, opening up for him and pressed against him hard when he groaned.

She panted against his mouth when they broke apart for air, and moaned when he tangled his fingers in her damp mane of brown thick hair. Her arms were around his shoulders when he let go of her hair and instead grabbed her legs, pulling her strong, muscular thighs up around his waist. With a grunt, he hoisted Castiel off the ground by her ass, and caught her by the legs, the other arm snapping up to throw around her waist. Her lips were on his again, this time accompanied by a smooth, warm tongue that ran over his lips and caressed his own in the hot space their mouths made.

With sharp inhalation from Cas, a little noise of surprise, Dean swung her down onto the bed in one fluid motion and slid down her body. He stopped, sitting back on his heels, to take in the fact that Castiel, the one and only person he’d ever fallen in love with, was laying on his bed, not only wanting to sleep with him but actually returning his feelings.

She snapped him out of the emotional reverie by sliding her pants off her hips and throwing them aside. She quickly made to take off her shirt, but Dean lurched forward and grabbed her hands, pulling them away. While her brows furrowed at him, and a question began visibly dancing on the tip of her tongue, Dean pushed the shirt up slowly, bunching up the Rob Zombie design in his fists until he was staring at smooth sternum, and two modestly-sized breasts that rose and fell with every one of her breaths. Again, he’d seen her naked before, but he’d missed small details before to a swarm of bees. He much preferred this, being able to notice stuff like a small birthmark above one of her light brown nipples, and freckles smattered over her abs, and the Enochian tattoo over her ribs.

His tongue ended up on every one of those things that he liked, including the other nipple that didn’t have a birthmark above it but was just as good. He kissed and sucked and nipped on every part of her he had access to, indulging a bit extra on the patches of skin that had Cas arching up to meet his lips and were accompanied by a deep groan that rumbled under his lips.

Eventually, Dean did make it down between her legs and felt almost instantly dizzy with arousal as he felt heat against his face. His cock ached in his pants as he dragged a tongue over her and was pleased to feel she was already slick and so wet that her skin shined, and the bed covers under her were damp.

Dean did, indeed, go down on her as per her request. He worked her open like he’d been made for it--which, knowing who’d rebuilt him in Hell--he probably had. She spread her legs for him with the enthusiasm of someone who didn’t care, or in her case, probably didn’t know to care about decency. And Dean reciprocated the enthusiasm by moaning into her, his tongue buried in her deep, tight heat. His tongue licked her hungrily, both with the firm tip of his tongue and the flat of it, and he rubbed in circles around the hard nub that sat like a crown atop her pink, glistening pussy.

She did orgasm quickly but made up for it in enthusiasm, her body shuddering almost violently under his mouth, her legs squeezing against the side of his face and her hips bucking up a bit as he sucked on her clit through her orgasm. She tangled her fingers in her own hair, and his, and tweaked at her nipples and ran her fingers over her own body, leaving red trails over her freckled stomach.

When Dean kept going, bringing her closer to another orgasm, she wrapped her hands under her knees, while he pushed at the back of her legs with his hands to guide the strong, tanned thighs up against her chest. Then he slid his hands under her ass and pulled her pussy up to his mouth, diving in with vigor, his chin and throat shining and wet.

Castiel would come two more times, and after the third he’d thought he was done, sitting back on his haunches, rubbing at his face with his t-shirt. What he didn’t expect was two shaking hands on his PJ bottoms, tugging his cock--which was aching, weeping, so fucking hard it made him dizzy--out of his pants. And what he especially didn’t expect was for her to reach down and guide his cock to her entrance, sliding the tip through swollen, soaking wet lips. He nearly passed out when she used the smooth head of his dick to rub against her clit, using him to get off a bit more.

Then, she’d paused, and she’d asked if he wanted it, if he wanted her like this. Suddenly, Dean couldn’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t want Cas, not since he’d sat with her on a pair of benches and she admitted that she had doubts about God, and Heaven, and her orders.

He wanted her, and he took her, entirely falling into her in every sense. His body and hers curled against each other, meeting and pulling away in sync. He held her close and kissed her lips. She threaded her arms around him and dragged her nails over his body; neck, back, scalp. She did her own nipping and sucking, leaving marks on his shoulders and collarbone.

Eventually, Dean gripped her tightly and flipped them so he was on his back. He had wanted, for a long time, Cas on top of him, raising herself up using strong legs, and sinking back down, sheathed around on his cock. Finally, it was happening and she was good at it, losing herself completely, ignoring decency and whatever nonsense she’d seen in porn. Cas, to him, was entirely herself, watching him with intense blue eyes and panting as she rode his cock tirelessly. He gripped her hips, his thumb pushing up the bottom edge of the Rob Zombie shirt, his fingers leaving divots in her skin as he guided her pace when it all became too much.

He knew he was imagining it, but for a second, in the haze of their passion, in the earth-shattering ecstasy of their shared final orgasm, he thought he saw wings behind her.

***

“What’s up with you?” Sam asked with a small smile and a snort as he looked over his coffee at Dean. “You’re all chipper and whistling while you cook. It’s creepy.”

It was completely by accident that the eggs and bacon currently in the pan were shaped like a smiley face. Still, Dean didn’t complain. He flipped the eggs. “What, I’m not allowed to be happy sometimes? Shut up and eat your spinach wrap, loser.”

“Thanks for making me that, by the way,” Sam added, grinning before he bit into the wrap cheerfully.

“You’re welcome,” Dean chuckled. He ignored the suspicious side-eye Sam threw at him after the chuckle.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked absentmindedly. “For some reason, I didn’t peg her as the sleeping-in-until-noon kinda human.”

Dean tilted the pan, sliding eggs and bacon onto a plate already stocked-full of eggs and bacon. “Give the girl a break. From what I understand, she probably hasn’t slept in a decent bed, well, ever.”

After turning off the stove, Dean picked up the plate and moved it over to the table. He slid onto the bench and started loading up.

“I guess I should go wake her up, though,” he went on, his brows raising on his forehead thoughtfully. “I told her I’d take her today to go buy some new shit like clothes and personal stuff. I figure she should have her own shower gel and stuff. Not ‘cause I care if she smells like Old Spice, y’know?” he added, remembering how Cas was feeling pressure to succumb to social norms. “But I figure she should at least be able to pick her own shit. Oh, and do you mind helping me move that ancient TV from Kevin’s room into Cas’? Kevin doesn’t need it, he has his own laptop when he’s here--”

Sam’s lack of reply, or interruption, or any movement at all really, made Dean look up from pouring syrup over his bacon. Sam’s blank expression and the new pervasive crackling of energy between them made Dean realise that it wasn’t Sam at all.

“Zeke,” Dean greeted suspiciously, his tone low, his words slow. “How can I help you, buddy?”

For some reason, the angel looked pissed, Sam’s upper lip twitching a bit.

“You brought Castiel into the bunker,” Zeke said in a clipped manner. “You...intend on keeping Castiel in the bunker. For how long?”

Dean snorted, shaking his head and resuming his syrup adventures. “Uh, well, she’s probably gonna be here for the indefinite future, Zeke. She kinda lives here now.”

“No,” Zeke replied, shaking Sam’s head slowly. “No, Dean. She cannot live here. She cannot stay here, not for months, not for weeks, not for days. Not even today. She has to go.”

The syrup bottle clunked down on the table much harder than Dean intended, but he hardly cared as he slowly looked up at Zeke. He felt sick like someone has shoved ash down his gullet. After swallowing hard for a second, Dean shook his head.

“No,” he replied hoarsely. “She can’t go. She doesn’t really have anywhere to go. A-And I don’t want her to go. She’s--” Dean swallowed hard, and lied. “--she’s family. We don’t kick out family.”

“You did it before,” Zeke replied hotly.

Dean felt sicker, suddenly losing his entire appetite. Fuck Zeke for bringing that up.

“Well,” Dean whispered back, glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure Cas wasn’t standing there, “I’m not gonna make that mistake again, am I?”

Sam’s frame leaned over the breakfast table and Zeke pressed his hands into the wood. In a whisper, hazel eyes darting over to the doorway as well, the angel said, “Castiel is a beacon. She’ll alert the angels to our whereabouts anywhere we go.”

“No, no, no, no,” Dean replied quickly, his voice hushed. He stared at Zeke with wide eyes. “She, uh, has this tattoo. It’s Enochian, she’s hidden from angels--”

“Not well enough, it seems,” Zeke countered, eyes narrowing. “She allowed herself to get caught by Avery the reaper. How useful is an angel warding spell if it does not ward against angels?”

“Well, maybe there’s a mistake! Maybe the tattoo artist got something wrong. We’ll look at it, we’ll fix it--”

“If she stays, she will bring Bartholomew’s crusade down on our heads, Dean. You believe the bunker to be safe now? Well, you’re wrong. The bunker will buckle and snap under the strength of angelic power.” Again, Zeke’s eyes travelled towards the doorway. With a sigh, he admitted, “The revelation comes to me with much regret. Castiel is, as she has always been, a good angel. Her heart is pure, her intentions are good, but she is in danger from angels who wish to kill her and torture her. The same angels will wish to harm me as well for consorting with you and your brother. If you do not exile her from this bunker and from our lives for the time being, I will have no choice but to go, to leave Sam and find another vessel.”

The sick feeling in his stomach was joined by the tightening of his chest and a hard time breathing.

“She has nowhere to go,” Dean whispered again, but he knew he had no choice but to follow Zeke’s instructions. If Zeke left Sam, Sam might die.

“I am sorry,” Zeke said with regret. He and Dean stared at each other, then Sam’s facial expression melted, losing its edge, and he blinked.

“What the…” Sam looked confused for a long second, then he stared back at Dean and rubbed at his forehead. “Why are you staring at me like that? You look like someone just kicked your puppy.” Sam paused to laugh. “Or left a dent in the Impala. What’s up?”

Dean broke eye contact and looked down at his plate. The bacon and eggs looked nauseating. He pushed them away.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “Not hungry.”

Sam blinked in confusion. “Uh, you were just pretty much salivating over that crap and now you’re not hungry?”

Dean raised his head and trained his expression to be calm. “You mind going out today and running a few errands for me? I’m thinking of showing Cas the ropes around here.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam sighed and bit into his wrap again. After swallowing, he nodded. “Sure, I gotta go into town and stop by the library. Lemme just eat and then I’ll go. You cool if I take the Impala?”

Dean got up and set his untouched food on the island. With a nod, he said, “Sure. Keys are in my jacket pocket by the door.”

He walked out of the kitchen and started his trek back to his bedroom, where Castiel still slept. Her legs tangled up in his sheets, his t-shirt ridden up around her waist, and her messy hair now completely dried and kind of frizzy, all messed up from sleep.

It was going to break her to leave, and it was going to break him to make her.

***

Castiel, as always, dealt with a terrible situation with grace. Dean had to sit on the chair in the corner of his room, away from her. He couldn’t do it if she put her hand on him, if he sat close enough to see if she got tears in her eyes or not. It had been hard enough to wake her up to give her the news, knowing she’d not see it coming. She looked like she’d never been so comfortable in her life, never had a sleep so good and so deep until he woke her. And it had been hard enough when she had smiled at him from the bed, from between locks of messy hair that’d fallen in her face during the night.

But she’d sensed a tension, a discomfort. After he moved away from her, she sat up straight, pulling the covers over her legs. She’d stared at him, intense, watching his lips move as he spoke to her.

_You have to go._

_You can’t stay._

_I’m sorry._

She didn’t beg to stay or even ask why she had to go. Hell, she didn’t even ask politely what was going on. She just nodded. She, calmly, asked where her clothing was. Dean offered to grab it from the dryer, but she insisted on getting it herself.

Dean looked away as she slipped on the pants he’d given her yesterday, but looked up to watch her back as she swept out of the room. He wanted to sit there and wallow, but he had work to do. He’d done her dirty, but he had every intention of making her life easier despite it. So he called Jody. He called her to request that she pull every string she had. They needed documentation, a social security number, ID. They needed money and a place for Cas to stay.

_I’m on it. Get her in a car, give her my address, tell her to drive the speed limit so she doesn’t get pulled over, and tell her I’ll be home by six. I’ll feed her, give her some clothes, and then she and I will figure out the rest. I’ll take care of her, Dean. I promise._

He was happy that at least someone could take care of Cas, even if it wasn’t him, but Dean never got to tell her anything, he never got to relay the message.

Castiel was gone.

He'd swept through the bunker, checking every room. He'd gone to the bathroom and his heart sunk when he didn’t see the pathetic, bursting-at-the-seams Ziploc bag with Cas’ stuff. When he rushed to the laundry room, he found his light grey sweatpants and his Rob Zombie shirt folded up neatly on the washer, but Cas’ clothing was nowhere to be found. The dryer was empty.

The only things that were missing were one of the weapon bags that had hung empty on a hook by the door, a singular gun and ammo from the weapons locker and, as they would discover later that evening, Sam’s hairbrush, taken from his bag under the sink.


	2. The Roommate

_One Year Later_

“Watch your step,” Dean warned his brother, wiggling his flashlight at the ground. “There’s something gooey on the floor. Why is there always goo on the floor?”

“Ugh, gross,” Sam said as he followed Dean through the cave, the beam from his flashlight bobbing up ahead while Dean’s watched the floor. “It hate it when the monsters are gooey. It always means I have to run my stuff through the wash like twice, and that’s a colossal waste of water.”

“Okay, Al Gore, chill, we live under a water treatment facility, I’m sure it’s fine,” Dean grumbled.

“Listen, it has nothing to do with how much water we have at our disposal,” Sam argued. “It’s about how it’s a waste of--”

Sam came to an abrupt stop and reached out to snatch Dean by the back of his jacket, jerking him back.

Dean swung his flashlight up. “What the--”

“Shhhhh!”

“What the fuck?” Dean cried, but quieter.

Up ahead, revealed under the light of their flashlights, was a large cavern, the walls covered in cloudy grey slime and what looked like little woven pods all pressed into the rock and stuck there with, presumably, goo.

“Oh, man,” Dean whispered with a groan. “This is like, straight outta Alien. Do I wanna know what’s in those weird egg-lookin’ pods? Sam, go break one open.”

“Me?” Sam whispered back. “Why me?”

“Because I’m oldest and I get to say what goes."

Sam scoffed. “That’s absurd. You’re oldest, so you should probably be the first to die.”

Dean rolled his eyes but did proceed forward, comforted to hear Sam’s footsteps follow closely. The boys reached the center of the cave and turned in opposite directions, going back-to-back as they stared around the cavern, their lights slowly moving over empty, dried out pods and fresh ones that glistened.

“I got four pods over here,” Sam murmured.

“Two on this side,” Dean replied. “That totals six. Do you think it’s just a freaky coincidence that there are six pods and six kids missing?”

Their footsteps squelched as they both approached one slimy little cocoon, the goo puddling around the pods near the edge of the cavern.

“'Cause I don’t believe in coincidences,” Dean muttered before reaching down to his boot and jerking out a silver knife. He steeled himself, desperately hoped his hunch was wrong, and then pressed the knife to the woven pod, cutting it open in one smooth motion.

“Oh, fuck!” he exclaimed, stumbling back and pressing the back of his wrist to his nose. The putrid scent that erupted from the pod was so acidic and sharp that it made his eyes burn. Sam groaned and did the same, pressing his sleeve to his nose, though he leaned in and checked the pod.

Dean followed suit and almost immediately regretted it.

“We should check the other ones,” he whispered, feeling his heart break a little bit.

Three minutes later, all of the gooey, fresh-looking pods were cut open and in each of them were the children that’d gone missing. They ranged in age from a few months old to six, but the worst part was that they weren’t even dead. They had just mutated into monsters themselves. Dean and Sam found them at various stages of transformation; some were fully covered in scales and growling from the inside of their cocoons, only recognizable from the clothing they wore, while others were half-mutated versions of themselves, with extra fingers and fangs, or only one eye a bright red.

“Fuckin’ Ann Arbor,” Dean grumbled. “Looks so freakin’ cute, but what lies beneath? Freakin’ baby-mutating kidnapping monsters.”

“We gotta get rid of them, Dean,” Sam said, his voice sounding broken. Dean turned to him to see Sam staring down at a baby, its arms half-covered in rough crimson scales, his one eye bulging and red. “They’ll grow up to kill people, to feed. They’ll take more kids… Fuck, I hate this.”

This was the worst part of their job; when innocent people had to die to save everyone else. It happened way too often and it was always hard, but when it involved kids…

“We don’t know what the monster is, Sam,” Dean replied weakly, staring down at the wriggling, snapping toddler in the pod in front of him. “Maybe we can cure them.”

“Dean,” Sam said, his tone soft. “You know what the one witness saw… A man and his dragon-looking children, eating another human alive. We can’t leave them. They’ll turn.”

“I thought you were against killing monsters who were innocent,” Dean asked, looking up at his brother. He recalled Amy Pond and Sam’s fury when he discovered Dean had finished her.

“We gotta do what we gotta do,” Sam replied darkly, shaking his head. “You taught me that.”

“I guess,” Dean said, feeling sick.

“It’s better this way. The police will find the bones. The parents won’t ever have to see what happened to their kids, what kind of mutants they became.”

“I’ll get the gasoline from the car. Just do me a favour while I’m gone;” Dean said, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed. “Make it quick for them.”

***

The monster’s mutant spawn were gone. The cave had been set fire to. The worst sound Dean had probably ever heard outside of Hell was the popping of the pods from outside of the cave. Sam didn’t last as long as Dean had, looking green even in the blazing orange light flickering across his face.

The two brothers left, making sure to call 911 on a throwaway cell phone, and made their way back to their motels in silence. Not even the sun, as it rose around them in violent shades of red and purple, could brighten the mood.

Only when they walked through the door of the quaint motel, just within the west border of Ann Arbor, did Sam speak up.

“All right. Baby-snatching. What kind of monster steals baby to mutate them?”

While Sam dropped down in front of their laptop, Dean jerked his jacket and button-up off his shoulders. He sighed heavily and listed, “Goo, pods, caves, and scaly mutant babies. They gotta look like humans ‘cause that witness said it was a woman, and these kids are being taken in broad daylight. No one’s described a big slimy dragon-lookin’ mofo to the cops, so we’re looking for some kinda shape shifting creature.”

“I’ll check Dad’s journal,” Sam announced.

Dean paused as he walked towards the bathroom. “Dude, relax. It’s freaking 6am, we’ve been working all night. Get some shut eye, and then we pick this up again in a few hours. I thought we agreed we’d try to go interview that nanny at some point tomorrow? Let’s shoot for noon. We can stop by the library in town and see if there are any similar supernatural events in the archive.”

Sam shrugged, looking grumpy. He rested his face in his hand as he scrolled his hand over the trackpad of his laptop. Tiredly, he asked, “Did you manage to find anything out about this girl we’re interviewing?”

Dean nodded, fetching his toiletries from his bag. “Stevie Leitsac. She was new to the job, her first week. The newspaper said she was in training, shadowing the other nanny for a few days before she was supposed to take over for her.” Dean peered inside the small sack in his hand, rifling for his toothbrush. “She was only working half-days. Walked in for her shift to find the other nanny dead, chewed to shit like she’d been snacked on by wolves, and the one baby was gone.”

“One baby?” Sam asked.

Dean tossed plucked out his toothbrush and nodded, meeting Sam’s gaze. “Yeah, there was a toddler upstairs. The monster probably didn’t know it was there or didn’t want it for some reason.”

Sam signed and closed his laptop. He rubbed at his eyes. “All right. I’ll budge. I’m exhausted. Hurry up with the bathroom, I’m ready to hit the hay.”

“Just gimme four hours to sleep,” Dean said, his toothbrush hovering by his mouth. “Then we get right on the case, bright and early.”

Sam glanced at the sun shining through the window and he rolled his eyes.

“Bright and early. Right.”

***

The Impala pulled up outside a colonial-style house half-shadowed by towering oak trees, the sun peeking through the leaves and dotting the green lawn with pocks of orange. It was picturesque, and no one would otherwise know a nanny had been brutally slaughtered inside and a baby kidnapped.

“Dunno how useful this interview is gonna be,” Dean murmured, rolling down his window and sticking out an elbow, resting his face on his fist as he gazed at the house. “She basically showed up and called 911.”

“Dean,” Sam huffed, “every piece of evidence counts. Every interview. Maybe she can tip us off to something. Hell, maybe it was her. Not the first time we’ve been on a hunt with a murderous babysitter.”

Dean looked over at Sam and the boys shrugged at each other. Despite the macabre situation, Dean smirked a bit. “Good point, Sammy. You good to go?’

“Yup. You? Badge, gun, silver knife, salt, holy water?”

Dean pushed open the car. “Check, check, check, check and check. _Vámonos_.”

The boys strode up the walkway and onto the large porch, rapping on the door firmly. A man and woman opened the door, wearing all black formal attire.

“Hello,” the man said cautiously, eyeing Dean and Sam’s suits suspiciously. “Can we help you?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Harvey. My name is Agent DeVille,” Dean said smoothly before he gestured to Sam, who had already pulled out his badge and was smiling kindly, “and this is my partner, Agent Rockett. We were just wondering if we could come inside for--”

“We were just running off to a service,” Mrs. Harvey said, her voice coy and wobbly. She was made up, her clothing and hair immaculate, but her eyes and nose were red. “As you probably know, our nanny was murdered in our home. Her funeral is today and we are running late.”

“Uh, yes, absolutely. We’re very sorry about your loss,” Sam pitched in, pursing his lips and showing her his very best puppy-dog eyes. “We also heard about your missing infant--”

Dean’s heart sunk, remembering the wriggling, growling baby half-engulfed in scales, its one red eye huge and bulging--

“--and can only assure you that we’ve joined with the Ann Arbor police department to assist in that investigation.”

“Oh,” the woman said, and the couple exchanged worn, tired looks. They glanced back at the boys, losing some of their defensive edge. “Well, thank you. Please let us know if we can assist in the investigation at all.”

She took a tissue from Sam, who had extended her one from a packet in his pocket.

“As a matter of fact,” Dean piped up, glancing behind their shoulders into the house, “if we might interview your new nanny, I understand she found the body.”

“Yes,” Mr. Harvey said sadly, leaning on the doorframe, his knuckles white. “Poor girl. She found Jacqueline, our former nanny, when she came in for her training shift. Honestly, we thought she would high-tail it and run, but we’re very thankful for her. She’s offered to stay, though I think most would quit. She’s taken everything in stride.”

“She’s a bit odd,” the mother murmured, leaning forward a bit, glancing over her shoulder. “But she said she was homeschooled, so I think it has something to do with that.”

Dean smiled but got the distinct feeling that this posh, uppity woman would think anyone who didn’t have two Mercedes in the driveway and a trust fund was odd. The husband, Mr. Harvey, wriggled his moustache and pointed over Sam and Dean's shoulders to his car in the driveway.

“My wife and I really must go, but please come in. Stevie is upstairs, reading to the little ones--” The man’s breath hitched and the eyes he diverted to the floor glazed over with tears. His wife put a hand on his arm, her chin wobbling. Quickly, Mr. Harvey amended, “Um, the little... _one._ I’ll let Stevie know you’re here to speak with her. Feel free to wait in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said, reaching into his pocket. “If you think of any information about this case, please feel free to reach out.”

Minutes later, they sat on two tall leather stools, their elbows on a white marble island countertop. Dean swivelled on the seat, back and forth and around, watching the ceiling as he spun. He only stopped when Sam swung out his arm and socked him in the stomach.

“Cut it out,” Sam whispered, scowling. “That’s so annoying. You’re making me dizzy.”

Dean caught himself on the island as he came to a stop and rolled his eyes. “Spoilsport. If it’s making you dizzy, don’t lo--”

Dean and Sam jumped a foot in the air when behind them there was a gasp and a crash. The boys reached for their guns and spun in a panic, but their movements were aborted as quickly as they started.

Their mouths dropped open.

Castiel stared back at them from the doorway of the kitchen. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and her cheeks tinged red. A flush was creeping up over the collar of her shirt.

“Cas?” Dean breathed, his heart suddenly hammering a mile a minute. He quickly put his gun away, but he gripped the counter, feeling dizzy. Maybe he really had spun around on the stool too much, but he was also aware that it could have been the sudden reappearance of the woman he’d been in love with for six years, standing in front of him after an entire year.

She looked overall the same but with slight differences. For one, she’d ditched the dirty hoodie and cargo pants look and replaced it with a clean, fitted white-t-shirt, light men’s blue jeans cinched at the waist, and socks that didn’t match. Her hair, as wavy and wild as ever, had grown past her waist. Her face was the same, though Dean thought he spotted that telltale mascara again like when she’d been an angel, and...he felt like a pervert for noticing, but her boobs were bigger, a lot bigger.

He quickly glanced up at her face, his cheeks heating up.

“Cas?” Sam said, his eyes lighting up, his lips breaking up into a grin. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Um,” Cas said, glancing around the room, swallowing visibly. “Working.”

“Working?” Sam echoed, his voice in awe. “Wait… Are you _Stevie_?”

“How did you find me?” she breathed, wide eyes glancing from Sam to Dean. She did not look happy to see them.

Sam turned towards Dean, his brows furrowed. Pure confusion was twisted on Sam’s face. Meanwhile, Dean felt a sweat break out under his shirt. He knew he should speak up but using his words might involve him having to explain to Sam that Cas hadn’t chosen to leave the bunker a year ago, or having to explain about the angel he’d allowed into Sam’s mind. He’d have to tell Sam that Cas hadn’t gone missing; she’d willingly disappeared.

“We found this case and had been wanting to interview the nanny,” Sam replied, his voice still tinged with shock and joy in a way that made Dean’s stomach hurt. Sam’s scowl was quickly morphing into an overjoyed grin again. “We had no idea it was you, that you’d be here. A-Are you okay?”

As Sam stepped towards her, she stepped back, staring between them, her jaw set.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Stopping abruptly in his approach, Sam looked back at Dean, unsure as to why Cas was acting skittish. He must’ve misconstrued the pallor of Dean’s face as shock as well because he turned back to Cas and shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re not here under duress, are you?” Sam asked, breathless. Cas seemed to shift uncomfortably under Sam’s gaze. “Cas, we looked for you. We looked for you for months. We called and left messages, and then the phone was just out of service. We thought you were dead!”

“I…”

Her eyes, which watched Sam nervously, shifted to Dean. 

He felt instantly like throwing up. The guilt, the longing, the heart touching apology...he hoped she saw it in his gaze, but Cas’ eyes went hard and cold.

“I lost my phone,” she replied shortly. “I was being hunted by Bartholomew’s angels, so I had to move on. I’m sorry, Sam. I wanted to call, but…” Again, her gaze flickered to Dean. “...I thought you had more important things to worry about.”

Again, Sam looked back at Dean for backup, looking aghast. “Better things? Cas, you’re family. We looked... You _decided_ to leave the bunker--” (Cas winced at his words.) “--without so much as a goodbye?”

“I had been absent from your lives for extended periods before,” Cas replied, but Dean had a feeling even she knew how pathetic the excuse was. “I didn’t think you would be preoccupied.”

“A year?”

Sam and Cas looked over at Dean, who’d finally spoke up. Dean sat down on his stool and ran his fingers over his mouth. “You couldn’t give us a call for a year?”

From behind Sam’s back, Cas’ eyes turned to venom. He didn’t blame her for being hurt and pissed and confused because clearly, she understood that Sam had no idea she’d been kicked out, but Dean had to play along…

And he was pretty broke up that she’d cut off all communications with him. Sure, it was a dick move to kick her out, but they’d had falling outs worse than this before. She hadn't needed to change her number.

“I was busy,” she replied shortly. “I _am_ busy, so ask your questions and go.”

“So you’re Stevie Leitsac?” Dean asked while Sam stepped away from Cas, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. Cas swept past them and turned her back to them, pulling a tower of Tupperware from the fridge.

“Yes,” she replied, setting the plastic down with a firm clap. She purposefully avoided eye contact as she opened all the containers, spreading them across the counter.

When she didn’t offer up any more information, Dean snorted. “Uh, so where’d you get the name?”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with Jacqueline’s death,” Cas retorted, shaking her head a bit as she reached up to open the cupboard in front of her. The plastic plate clicked down sharply on the countertop. Dean noticed immediately that her nails were painted a deep red and felt a bubble of hysteria, thinking about Castiel, angel of the Lord, painting her nails. He could just picture it; her face pinched, stiff shoulders hunched over her fingers, artfully dragging the small brush over her nails with careful precision--

“That’s why you’re here, is it not?” she asked. “To ask about Jacqueline?”

Sam gaped a bit at her, obviously confused as to why she was in such a sour mood, but then he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. The...other nanny. You knew her?”

The plastic plate Cas had pulled down from the cupboard was Cars-themed, but the grinning face of the red car was blocked as Cas arranged cubes of cheddar cheese on it, pulling them from the containers.

“Yes. Jacqueline was moving to Detroit, and I had previous experience caring for children--”

“When?” Dean interrupted with a skeptical huff.

Again, the blue gaze was nothing but ice and poison as she slowly looked up at him.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured, diverting his gaze back down to the cubes of cheddar cheese and grapes sliced in half.

“I cared for two boys--” (Dean’s heart twinged.) “--back during the summer breaks. School children are off from late June until early September,” she said as an addition, for a second looking like their usual Cas, proud of knowing something about human culture. But then she seemed to remember she was angry with him and refocused her attention on cutting grapes. “Eventually the boys went back to school and I required additional employment. I was made aware of municipal resources to gain employment, so I took temporary assignments as a PSW in nursing homes and a caregiver at childcare centers. A friend then told me that Jacqueline was moving and would require a replacement.”

“How the hell did you end up taking care of anyone, let alone little kids?” Dean asked, confused. “It’s not like you got community college under your belt, there, Cas. Hell, you don’t even got a GED.”

Sam seemed to pick up on the fact that Cas had nothing but daggers for Dean because he swung his foot and landed a swift kick to Dean’s ankle.

“I was given the opportunity to take classes through a local community center,” Cas said coolly, raising her eyebrows at the handful of grapes she dropped onto the blue car. “First aid, employment soft skills, home economics, to name a few. I am allowed to take care of children twelve and under,” she announced with a hint of pride in her voice. She looked up at Dean and shifted her weight onto her hip. “A lot changes in a year.”

“I can see that,” Dean murmured. He stared at her and desperately hoped he didn’t look as kicked-puppy-like as he felt. _I miss you,_ he wanted to say, _I’m so sorry, Cas._

Sam’s concerned face shifted and he smiled at her. “That’s really great, Cas. You must be really proud.”

“I have certainly made a life for myself,” she murmured, popping a grape into her mouth and moving onto baby carrots. Glancing up at Sam, she flashed a tight smile that didn’t meet her eye. “As expected of me, I suppose.”

_I’m trying to fit in. References, brushing my hair, shaving, having sex... It’s what I’m supposed to do, right?_

“So, what do you want to know about what happened?” she asked with a sigh. Cas finally turned towards them, her arms crossed over her chest, her stance just as stiff and awkward as Dean remembered. It warmed his heart for a moment before the distant look on her face reminded him he wasn’t allowed to enjoy her anymore.

Dean intertwined his fingers on the counter. “Just tell us what you know.”

Cas stared at him, her mouth pursed like just looking at him annoyed her, but then she turned and looked at Sam instead, the lines around her eyes softening.

“I was shadowing Jacqueline for training, only working four hours a day until she left, at which point I would be here for nine hours. I arrived at the Harvey’s home on Friday afternoon to find Jacqueline’s innards strewn across the room, her body bleeding out onto the floor from a series of aggressive holes in her body. I checked on Tim, the Harvey’s little boy, but he was unharmed. As a matter of fact, he slept through the attack. But the infant, Cheryl, she was gone. Taken from Jacqueline’s arms.”

“How do you know?” Sam asked, sliding onto a stool, losing some tension in his shoulders.

Cas’ mouth downturned into a frown. “Cheryl’s blanket and soother were found only feet away from Jacqueline’s body. A bottle of milk had rolled through the blood and into the hallway. It’s how I initially perceived that something was wrong. That and the silence. A home with a young infant is rarely quiet.”

A year and a half ago, Dean might’ve made a sarcastic inquiry about how Cas knew anything about babies, but he kept his mouth shut. Instantly, remembering how he used to make jabs at Cas, he regretted every one, wishing he’d taken time to appreciate her while she’d be there with them.

Also, he kept his mouth shut because they knew exactly what Cheryl’s fate was and Cas didn’t. Not yet.

“Any idea what _actually_ happened to the other nanny?” Sam asked with a wince.

Cas nodded. “Yes. Before I phoned the police, I did an investigation of my own. The holes in Jacqueline's body were inflicted by teeth. They looked like bite marks, like numerous small mouths had ripped and yanked at her flesh. I found teeth marks along parts of her body, and even a few baby teeth wedged in her skin.”

“Gross,” Dean whispered.

Cas continued to stare at Sam as she retold her tale. “I found a cloudy mucus on the door handle and streaked over the grass in the backyard. I suspect it’s some sort of supernatural excretion, I suspect it belongs to the creature that murdered Jacqueline and took Cheryl. ”

“Any idea what kind of monster it is?” Sam asked, his brows raising. He gestured outside. “We found a cave half-way across town full of these woven pod-like things.”

A small whoosh of air escaped Castiel’s lips and she balled her fists at her side. Quietly, she asked, “Cheryl was in one of them, wasn’t she? Her and the other missing children?”

Surprised, Sam and Dean exchanged looks, then Dean nodded. “Yeah, Cas. She was. They were.”

Looking pained, her mouth opened for a moment, then she pushed on and admitted, “I figured. What you’re dealing with is a Zchitri.”

“A cht-what?” Dean asked eloquently, blinking and leaning forward, thoroughly confused. “I’ve never heard of that. My dad never wrote anything about that in his journal.”

“Yes,” Cas replied sharply, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s because your father spent a mere fifty-two years on this earth, whereas I have been around for millions of years; I have seen this before. What you’re dealing with is a Zchitri, a creature who is Scandinavian in origin and survives by hibernating in burrows deep inside the earth, and only coming out to feed and repopulate every three hundred years.”

“Is it some kind of shape-shifter?” Sam asked.

“Of sorts,” Cas admitted with a sigh. “It takes on the appearance of the species of which it’s trying to steal children from. It will feast on adults and capture children. The Zchitri appears and behaves very much like a spider. It lays hollow, jelly-like eggs that it later uses as an incubator for the children it captures. Once incubated, the children will morph into Zchitri spawn.”

“Red eyes, scales, claws, fangs?” Dean asked gravely.

Castiel nodded, swallowing hard, the lines around her eyes crinkling as she pursed her lips. They watched her pause, then turn back to the Tupperware containers, closing them shut slowly, squeezing at the edges to ensure they were sealed.

“Did you find the monster?” she asked tightly, licking her dry lips.

Sam sounded regretful. “No. Just the kids. Cas, there’s no cure for them, right? Once they’ve been incubated?”

Dean held his breath.

“No,” she replied softly. “They turn the moment they’re transplanted into the eggs and wrapped up. If you found them, you should have killed them. They weren’t children anymore, just hungry, bloodthirsty monsters. Vessels for fury, with a taste for blood and flesh.”

The Winchesters exhaled in a whoosh. Sam ran his fingers through his hair, twisting the ends in his fingers nervously.

“We destroyed them,” Sam admitted. “Set the cave on fire and left.”

Cas froze, aborting her movement to pick up the tower of containers, and she looked melancholy for a second, gazing up at the white, sparkling subway tile, her eyes looking far away.

“I’m really sorry, Cas,” Sam offered quietly, and Dean’s stomach clenched when Sam reached over and pressed his hand to her arm, drawing her attention. She looked up at Sam and smiled. The tiny, sad quirk of her mouth made Dean’s stomach hurt so badly he had to look away.

“I usually arrive here sooner. I’m usually early,” Cas admitted, staring down at Sam’s hand as it lowered back down onto the counter. “The bus was late that day. Perhaps if it had been on time, I could have stopped the Zchitri. It’s easy to kill; death fire or a silver knife to the heart. I’m human but I can still fight, I’m still useful for something. I just...wasn’t useful in time.”

“You take the bus?” Dean asked bluntly, watching her pull a carton of milk from the fridge and pour it into a sippy cup left to dry on a tray by the sink. He meant to ask out of genuine curiosity. He was dumbfounded and slightly amused by the idea of Cas taking a bus, and inexplicably sad at the reminder that she used to have wings. But the question earned him another sharp kick to the ankle from Sam.

Shoving the milk back in the fridge, Cas slammed the fridge door closed and turned sharply, snatching up the plastic Cars plate, and saying irately, “Yes, I take the bus. If that’s all you needed from me, show yourselves out.”

Cas swept out of the room, hair blowing back over her shoulders.

“You idiot,” Sam hissed as he rushed to get up, punching Dean in the arm. “Cas, wait!”

Hating himself, hating his stupid mouth, and hating this entire situation, Dean slid off the stool and followed his brother. His shoes clicked over smooth tile and onto hardwood, where they clapped loudly in the vast, open foyer that had no business being so fancy.

Sam was at the base of a handsome staircase, his hand on Cas’ arm. She was midstep, turned to face Sam, a guarded expression on her face.

“Where can we find the adult Zchitri? Any idea, Cas? Your insight means so much,” Sam said softly, smiling at her.

Cas seemed to melt a bit under Sam’s smile, and she sighed, staring up at the teardrop crystals hanging from a chandelier.

“You murdered its spawn,” she murmured. “It will track your scent and come for you. Likely, you won’t need to hunt it for long, since it’s likely hunting you as we speak. It’s another reason why you need to go.”

“You don’t think it’ll try and come back for the other baby?” Dean asked, nodding up the stairs. “Tim?”

Cas smirked, looking proud of herself. “It can try, but after the attack, I warded this home thoroughly. The Harveys will have no more tragedy as long as I’m employed here, and after, of course.”

Of course she had. This was Cas. Protector of literally everyone.

“Okay,” Sam nodded, patting her arm, looking sad. “Okay. Well, thanks, Cas, for all your help.”

She nodded and shrugged a bit, lifting the sippy cup and plate as if to say goodbye. She looked alarmed when Sam lifted himself up onto the first step and wrapped his arms around her.

“It was...it was really good to see you. I’m really happy you’re okay,” Sam murmured. “I missed you.”

Her hands stayed out to the side, and Cas didn’t hug him back, but she didn’t fight it either. Her blue eyes shone a bit, and she blinked hard.

Dean stood a ways behind Sam and immediately felt his heart sink as she turned her gaze on him. Dean smiled but knew he wouldn’t have the effect on her that Sam did. Sam hadn’t confessed his feelings for her, had sex with her only to throw her out the next day. Sam hadn’t broken her spirit. Dean was solely responsible for that, and he was solely deserving of the cold gaze Cas was fixing on him. Her jaw tightened as she stared at him, her eyes boring into his almost unblinking, like when she’d been an angel. The intensity and dislike on her face hurt worse than when she’d worked with Crowley behind their back, or broke Sam’s wall, or married some creepy dude that found her washed up on a lake-side.

“I’m okay,” she replied back to Sam as he pulled away. “Have a safe trip back to the bunker, and Sam, aim for the heart with the Zchitri.”

She turned from Sam and walked up the steps, disappearing around the landing.

“Wings or no wings, she’s still crappy at goodbyes,” Dean murmured to Sam as they left the house, and left Cas behind for what felt like the millionth time.

***

“How the hell did she get all the way to Ann Arbor?” Sam mused, pulling a beer up to his lips, staring out over the Huron River. “She takes the bus.”

_You take the bus?_

Of course, she’d stormed out after he’d said that. Dean scratched at his scalp, then took a swig of beer, too, and kissed his teeth, hissing at the burn of carbonation his tongue. He didn’t say anything, not wanting to egg on the conversation, just in case Sam brought up Cas’ homelessness, her need to take the bus. Dean felt too anxious to verbalize that angsty horror show, not when he was too busy trying to make that image of Cas staring at him with dislike go away.

Sam didn’t bring it up though, he just shook his head. “She’s a nanny. Our Cas, a nanny. She went from crusades into Hell, smiting baddies, and leading rebellions to...pouring milk into sippy cups and putting toddlers down for naps. If that’s not a mindfuck, then I dunno what is.”

Dean picked up a fry from the grease-stained box balancing on his knee and he forced himself to eat so Sam wouldn’t know something was up. So he shrugged, and said with his mouthful, “She’s just being a human, doin’ what she’s supposed to do. Hell, she got out of the life, maybe we should leave her alone.”

“You think that’s why she didn’t return your calls?” Sam asked, his voice sounding a bit downtrodden. “Do you think…”

“That she figured we were nothing but trouble?” Dean snorted. “Yeah, probably. No wonder she left.”

“If she left,” Sam asked slowly, picking at the label of his beer, “why is she so angry? She seemed… I dunno, shocked to see us. She was acting pretty annoyed, actually, I dunno what her deal was ‘cause she was the one who chose to leave. Even if she was hiding from the life, I thought she might’ve just been able to come out and say it. Cas was never really the type to--”

“Lie? Hide? Be cryptic?” Dean offered, shaking his head.

Sam’s shoulders jumped a bit as he huffed with laughter. “Well, yeah, I guess you have a point.”

They ate in silence, sat on a park bench in some small park along the river.

“Stevie Leitsac,” Dean murmured. “What a random freakin’ name, right? She really wanted to stay hidden. Though don’t you think it kinda sounds like a grunge singer or a Joni Mitchell-type--”

Dean stopped talking when Sam smacked him in the arm. His little brother was grinning.

“Leitsac,” Sam repeated, his dimple sinking in deeply as he smiled fondly, staring out over the river with amusement in his eyes. “I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Dean grumbled, rubbing at his arm.

With a chuckle, Sam revealed; “It’s ‘Castiel’ spelled backwards.”

Dean froze, then groaned. “No _way_. Damn it, Cas. Any baddie with a love of wordplay coulda figured that out.”

“I think it’s kinda funny,” Sam snickered, sipping on his beer, looking positively tickled.

“It’s not funny.”

“...it’s pretty funny.”

Dean rolled his eyes, desperate to change the subject. He tipped back the rest of his beer and set it on the ground by his feet. “So, Cas said we’re probably being hunted.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “And there are only two primary sources written about Zchitri. One is in Russian, while the other is like, Greek or something.”

“So, you don’t know Russian or Greek?” Dean asked, raising a brow at his brother and smirking. “What kind nerd are you?”

Sam pursed his lips. “I’ll translate it eventually, jerk. Though Cas seemed to know a lot about it. We could just ask her to help us out on the case.”

“Nah,” Dean shrugged, raising the last few bites of his sandwich to his lips. “We’ll do it without her. She didn’t seem like she was interested in helping and if she wants out of the life, we gotta respect that.”

Sam smiled, but it was sad as he looked back out over the river, watching a couple paddle boat lazily over the still water. “That’s pretty respectable of you.”

Dean swallowed his heart in his throat and took a bite of sandwich to wash it down. From the corner of his mouth, he said, “It’s best for everyone that we just leave her alone.”

***

‘Leave her alone’ lasted about a day.

Dean’d had every intention of not thinking about Cas, or feeling guilt over Cas, or giving into the feelings of deep-seated longing to see her and be forgiven. He wanted to respect that she didn’t want to see or talk to him, and he wanted to accept that she hated him for throwing her out.

He’d done so well; he’d stayed with Sam, kept perched in the uncomfortable motel room chair as they rallied together help in translating the monster info. They waited for the inevitable attack, with silver daggers tucked in their boots and canisters of flammable gas brought from the local hardware store.

Initially, the monster never came for them, and the boys almost feared that Cas had been wrong. Maybe it wasn’t hunting them and maybe it had gone back into hibernation. Maybe they’d missed their chance to catch the monster. But then the news broke on the TV set that functioned as background noise, and the boys quickly shifted their focus, turning in their seats to stare at the screen in horror; six children stolen from the local hospital by a person in dark clothing, and three prenatal nurses had been killed. Their blood had been used to write a message on a glass partition that normally separated new parents from their incubated infants.

_SEE YOU SOON, HUNTERS. YOU TOOK MINE, NOW I’LL TAKE YOURS._

Shit. They were running out of time. Who knew how long it would take for the freak to incubate those kids in those pod again, if they still even had any left at another location? Could they have another location, somewhere they’d missed? How many children did this thing need before it went back into hibernation?

Sam spent the entire evening with his nose buried in a book. Around seven, Dean watched his brother nod off into a book, and he didn’t blame him. They hadn’t slept in nearly a day and a half. Still, where Sam was exhausted, Dean was alert. His very bones hadn’t stopped thrumming since he’d seen Cas, and the adrenaline from the hunt hardly left room for tiredness.

The Cyrillic-to-English dictionary slid off Sam’s chest and onto the bed beside him as he shifted in his sleep, curling his long legs up onto the bed he’d migrated onto for ‘his aching back’.

Sam would never know that Dean had donned his FBI threads and slipped out.

It only took eight minutes from their hotel to get to the Harvey’s residence.

The door swung open, and the homeowners peered out through a crack, the bolt lock chain looking like a crown above the husband’s head.

“Oh! Agent, hello,” Mr. Harvey greeted, his eyes unnarrowing as he shuffled away and unlocked the door. His wife, holding their toddler, Tim, in her arms in nearly a death grip, smiled too, but hers was tight and her under-eye bags were deep. They were scared.

“I apologize,” Mrs. Harvey said breathlessly. “You can understand, we have to be suspicious of anyone who comes to the door.”

“Have you found anything out about our baby? Our Cheryl?” Mr. Harvey pleaded, his eyes widening, his lips pressing tightly together under his bushy moustache.

Dean’s heart ached under their hopeful, but anxiety-ridden stares. He shook his head and smiled gently, “No sir, no ma’am. Nothing yet. But I feel like we’re close…”

So, they hadn’t yet heard about the skeletons found in the cavern fire. While it hurt Dean that they were still being kept in the dark, at least they were eager enough that they’d be willing to give him any information he needed.

“Is there anything we could help you with, Agent?” the husband asked nervously, exchanging looks with his wife, who shifted their sleepy toddler in her arms.

After waving a bit at the little kid, Dean refocused on the father and nodded, hoping he looked charming with the small smile on his face.

“Yes, I was hoping I could get some information from you. See, I have some follow up questions for your nanny. Stevie, was it?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Harvey replied. “Was she of any help? She’s a bit odd, a bit quiet, but I think finding a scene like that would be upsetting, to say the least…”

“No,” Dean interrupted, raising a palm. “She was of great help. I just needed to ask her some more questions. She’s not here, is she?”

The husband snorted, scowling at Dean. “Of course not. She works long hours, but we wouldn’t make her work on a Saturday night. She looks after Tim and our house only from Monday to Friday.”

Dean shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Of course. Might I get her address to pay her a visit?”

Mrs. Harvey nudged her husband, holding out their son to him. The little boy outstretched his arms, his tiny fists grasping for him, and sighed against his binkie as he settled against his father’s chest. Dean’s heart squeezed painfully; Tim looked just like his baby sister.

“Of course,” Mrs. Harvey replied. “Let me get my address book.”

As she disappeared into the house, Mr. Harvey shifted his son in his arms and narrowed his eyes at Dean again. “Is there anything we should know, agent? I-Is Stevie a suspect, because she was _in our house_ with my son. If we’re in danger, if--”

“Stevie is an angel,” Dean chuckled, tugging a hand from his pocket to wave through the air. “She clearly has no intentions but to do right by you and your family, Mr. Harvey. She isn’t a suspect, not to worry. I just have some follow up questions. She was a bit shy, I was hoping to get her to open up a bit more.”

Mr. Harvey nodded like he understood, and soon after, Mrs. Harvey appeared with a sticky note. She gave Dean Cas’ address and asked to be updated on the case as it progressed.

Cas’ place was a fourteen minute drive away.

Dean wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. He had no reference or gauge to know what kind of human Cas was; he’d only known mortal Cas to be kind of dopey and unsure. She’d been awkward in her own skin and lost but curious, back when they’d saved her from the reaper. This Cas, the one who knew how to take care of kids and wore blue boyfriend-jeans, and wore mascara… He wasn’t sure what she was like.

However, Dean pulled up in front of a short, plain-looking building plopped on the corner of a neighbourhood on the edge of a ravine, adjacent to a walking trail. The other houses down the street were a bit rough looking but otherwise, the neighbourhood was a secluded nook away from the downtown core. Strangely, there was a sign outside with the building number, and a plaque that said ‘Kellyville Housing’.

Dean couldn’t explain why, but he had a weird feeling as he walked up to the building, noticing sketchy looking people exit the front doors. A group of skinny, rough looking dudes and lumpy looking middle-aged women with bad bleach jobs hung out outside, puffing on cigarettes, sitting on delipidated lawn chairs and hacking out their lungs. To Dean’s surprise, when he stepped inside, a woman sat at a counter behind bulletproof glass, and when Dean walked up to her, she smiled kindly.

“How can I help you? Are you visiting?” she asked.

Dean, despite being confused, tugged out his badge and flashed it at the woman. “Yes. My name is Agent DeVille, FBI. I’m investigating a case and would like to speak to Steve Leitsac? Does she live here? This was the address I was given for her.”

The women’s eyes had gone wide at the sight of his badge, but she nodded, pulling a clipboard and pen from under her desk, sliding it under a slot in the glass and gesturing to it.

“Sign the visitor’s log, please. And she sure does. Stevie is a really nice girl. She keeps to herself, keeps her unit clean, and always pays her rent in time. She’s really nice to everyone, officer, uh, I mean, agent. She’s pretty quiet, and she keeps Leia pretty quiet too,” The woman paused, swallowing and wringing her hands on the desk. “Is she in trouble? Because there’s a policy here about staying out of trouble, y’see--”

“No, no,” Dean shook his head. He flashed her a charming smile, hoping to diffuse her anxiety. “No trouble here. I just have some questions for her.” He gestured through a set of glass doors. “Apartment…?”

“Seven,” the woman replied quickly, licking her lips, her eyes darting up the stairs. “Two storeys up, second door to your left.”

Dean tried to hide his surprise when she pressed a button to activate the doors. He pushed through and followed her directions, walking through a corridor that was sheathed in dirty, old wall paper and a carpet that looked like it might’ve been purple at some point in the seventies, but was more gray nowadays. Unit seven came quickly though, and he wondered how small the units were.

His hand was halfway raised to knock on the door when the nerves settled in. Dean’s fist hovered in front of the cheap fake-wood, nervous to see Cas again, especially without Sam, who’d been his buffer, his shield against the vitriol and anger Cas undoubtedly wanted to unleash on him. Grace or no grace, Cas would surely find a way to remind Dean that she was, and always had been, a warrior.

Maybe the presence of her roommate, Leia or whatever, would stop her from decking Dean in the face.

He knocked.

He knocked and he waited, the sound of a bolt lock sliding out of place making him feel sick. He wondered if it was too late to run, but then the door opened, just a crack, just enough for Cas to peer out at him. Wide blue eyes quickly narrowed to slits and with a scowl, Cas closed the door sharply.

The bolt lock slid back in place.

“Cas!” Dean barked. “Open up.”

Dean raised his fist and knocked on the door again, sharper, louder.

“Stop that,” Cas’ voice said from just the other side of the door like she had her face pressed against it.

“ _Stevie_ , I just want to talk to you for a minute. I, uh, have some follow up questions to what we were talking about before.”

Silence. Then, “Whatever it is, you and your brother will figure it out eventually.”

Dean glared at the ceiling. “It’d be quicker with your help.”

She was quiet again and Dean scrubbed at his face. He was a moment from pounding on her door when she said, “Just come see me at work on Monday.”

It took everything in Dean to not stomp his foot like an angry toddler. “We don’t have time for Monday. Open this door.”

“No.”

“You’re being a child!”

She hissed and whispered, “Stop yelling!”

Her door shook when he pounded on it, and he heard a growl from the other side of the door. Still, it stayed locked, in its place.

“I speak with you on Monday, or I don’t speak at all.”

“I’ll break down the door.”

“I’ll call the police.”

Dean laughed at the hilarity of Castiel, angel of the Lord, calling the cops on him. Dean smirked.

“One. I’m breaking down the door on three.”

“You’re being absurd. I’ll just call you--”

“Two. How could you call me, Cas? I thought you lost my number?” Dean asked, his stomach squeezing as his suspicions were confirmed; she hadn’t _lost her phone._ As usual, Cas was being a terrible liar.

“I--”

“Three! Move Cas, I’m about to fuck your door up--”

“No!” she cried, and to Dean’s surprise, he heard the bolt lock quickly slid open and the regular lock click out of place. He tried not to look too astounded that his plan worked when she wrenched open the door.

Dean felt breathless immediately, seeing her standing in the doorway, looking both ridiculously the same but upsettingly different. It was still Cas, but she managed, not wearing her trenchcoat or donning the suit and blue tie, to look like just another girl. Her hair was a fucking mess; thrown up into a ponytail on her head, frizzy waves falling around her face and neck, winding down over her collar bone. She was wearing the same pair of jeans from a few days ago, but now instead of a fitting t-shirt, she wore probably the ugliest, over-sized mustard coloured top with a wonky maroon moose woven into the sleeves.

She looked furious, her tanned skin flushed in the hollows of her cheekbones.

“Doors cost money, Dean!” she snapped. “I-I can’t afford to replace a door and there’s a three strike rule here for mischief. I’ve not gotten any strikes and I’d like to keep it that way! Bradley from across the hall has had his door kicked in twice now, and each time it’s nearly forty dollars for a new door!”

Dean didn’t have the heart to tell her forty dollars for a door wasn’t a lot.

“Sorry,” he said and disguised his absolute terror at facing her under a smirk, and a flash of his teeth. “Can I come in?”

Cas’ face slowly melted from fury to panic, and her eyes got a bit wide. She blinked, looking around the hallway, as if hoping someone would help her. It was hurtful, but Dean figured she had reason to not want him in her home. After all, he’d kicked her out of his.

Finally, she rested her wide stare at him, and his mind flashed back to that night over four years ago when he’d taken her to a club and tried to hook her up with a male prostitute. She’d been terrified, just like she was now.

“You have to be quiet,” she whispered.

Dean nodded and peeked over her shoulder, slowly approaching the door. “Your roommate sleeping or something? It’s like 7pm…”

She blinked quickly. “My roommate.”

“Yeah,” Dean gestured back towards the stairs. “Your door lady kinda spilled the beans about your loud roommate.”

To his surprise, she nodded and moved out of his way, holding the door open. As he walked by her, she whispered again, “You have to be quiet. She’s a light sleeper.”

“Relax,” he whispered back. “I’ll be quiet… Wait,” he peered around, “you _share_ this place with someone else?”

He couldn’t help it, he sounded a bit judgy. The apartment was smaller than the motel room he was staying in. The front door led directly into the kitchen, which was not so much a kitchen as it was a nook with a fridge, a stove, and a counter that had just enough room for a crappy looking toaster and a sink. The cabinets looked like they had been new...back in the sixties. From where he stood in her kitchen, he could see right into the living room, which was big enough for a small wooden table and two chairs, one couch, one small box TV, and a chipped Ikea table that passed as a coffee table. In the distance was a small hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathrooms, presumably.

Still, the place was Cas’.

The thought made Dean feel all kinds of emotions. He took in the wooly blanket on the couch and a pair of faded blue slippers left haphazardly on the carpet. There were books all over the coffee table, their spines all adorn with white tags--library books. A box of generic brand Cheerio-knock offs was rested on the kitchen counter like someone had been wrist-deep in it moments ago. Beside him, from hooks by the door, hung Castiel’s things. Her maroon hoodie, her dull blue cargo jacket, the same ones she’d worn when she ran away from the bunker.

The fuzzier he felt inside, the more annoyed Castiel seemed to be. She closed the door behind him and whispered irately, “Yes, Dean. I share this with someone else.”

Dean took in the shoes on the floor, and a bin of laundry still unfolded on the couch. He smiled a bit, imaging Cas sitting in front of the TV, folding laundry like a regular old boring human. Dean walked through the kitchen, even though Cas made a noise of annoyance behind him.

Dean took a moment to smile at the calender hanging from the fridge, and enjoyed Cas’ neat writing as it outlined her days; Monday to Friday she worked from 7am-6pm. Every two weeks her roommate Leia had a doctor’s appointment. Then Dean started to notice something odd. The table had two chairs and a high chair, and behind the fake-Cheerios was a weird looking tray stock full of baby bottles. He turned to peer around the living room, and he noticed a few toys lying around. The top of the laundry pile was bibs and onesies so small he wasn’t even quite sure those weren’t doll clothing.

“Uh,” Dean spoke up, chuckling, “Is your roommate a baby?”

Cas laughed, her voice strained. “No. I… My… My roommate takes care of children during the week,” she shoved past him in the small space and began picking up the bottles, snatching a plastic box from a cupboard above the sink and placing all of them in there neatly. “We haven’t found time to clean.”

He’d come here for a reason. With the creature taking the kids, and killing the nurses, and very clearly shouting Sam and Dean out in it’s blood-penned message, they had to work fast, and the two sources they had on the monsters wasn’t enough. They needed Cas, who had knowledge and experience with the thing, to help…

And Dean was desperate to have an excuse to see her. He needed a legitimate reason to knock on her door and see where she was living. He wanted to make sure she was okay, that she was fed, and clothed, and that she _had things_. He needed to know she had a place to stay, that she’d found her way even without him.

“Why did you come to my home?” Castiel asked bluntly, closing the cupboard above her sink with a sharp click. When she turned to face him, the deep scowl on her face was disconcerting, even if it was deserved.

Fighting the knot in his stomach, in order to mask his anxiety, Dean shrugged and grinned at her. “What, I’m not allowed to visit a friend?”

“What do you want?” she demanded in a whisper. “You asked me what I knew, and I told you.”

The grin on his lips faded and Dean stood in the doorway to her kitchen, feeling very much like throwing up.

“Sam and I need your help on the case, Cas,” he half-lied. “More kids were taken and we need all hands on deck.”

“Call someone else,” Castiel replied curtly, her dry lips pressing together irately. “You have other hunters that are of use to you. I know you can find someone else.”

He stepped towards her, but Cas stepped away, just like she’d done back at the Harvey’s residence. Dean froze, taken aback by her distrust.

“Time is kinda ticking, Cas,” Dean went on, even though his heart felt sick. “You’re the closest hunter.”

Something soured even further on Cas’ face and Dean was the one who felt like stepping back this time. Her hand, curled around the handle of her stove, gripped harder.

“I am not a hunter,” she replied quietly, her voice cold. “I’m not a hunter, or an angel, or anything of use to you. Find someone else. If this is truly why you’ve come, then I’m sorry to disappoint you… Again.”

The way she said ‘again’ raised all kinds of alarms. Dean quirked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Castiel looked away from him now, but she glared at the fridge handle just over his shoulder. She rolled her tongue in her mouth, buying time. Then, with her voice low and raspy, and her eyes reduced to cool slits, she whispered in a clipped manner, “I think it’s needlessly cruel that you would make me say it out loud, Dean.”

Okay, ow. Dean did step back then, his shoulder bumping the doorframe to her kitchen. She stared so intensely at the fridge that he was surprised the thing wasn’t sparking and sizzling.

“Cruel?” he repeated quietly. “What…”

“Yes,” she replied after a moment. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But if you must make me say it; you turned me away from the bunker because I fell from Heaven. You found no use for me other than to...well, to take advantage of my vulnerable state. I was hungry, and homeless, and lonely, and I stupidly relayed such to you. A-And I told you how I felt about you, I allowed myself to believe you when you said we were equals.”

 _No, that’s not true. That’s not what happened. That’s not how I feel._ He wanted to say all these things, but her anger was filling the kitchen with darkness so heavy and think Dean couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.

The bags under her eyes looked darker as she moved on, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. “You clearly saw me as a disappointment; a disappointment of a human, an angel. And then, after stripping me of my clothing and revealing my mortal body, after telling me I had a choice in who I slept with, you found me disappointing as a woman. ‘Insult to injury’ doesn’t seem a strong enough phrase for how that felt.”

When she lifted her eyes to finally meet his again, Dean felt so heavy under the gaze that he wanted to fall to his knees in front of her.

“And now you come into my home, and I can see the disappointment as you look around. It’s not enough that I have a home, it’s not up to your standards. My job isn’t to your standards, my method of transportation isn’t to your standards. Seeing you is a torment, Dean, after everything. You came here under false pretences to need my help, but I know you don’t want my help, you just wanted to see how far I’ve fallen, how badly I’ve failed without your help.” She made a noise of disgust, shaking her head with a jerk. “How stupid I felt, walking away from the bunker. Sam always mocked you for saying sweet words to women to get your way with them, and I fell for it anyway. A fool. A silly, pathetic fool.”

“That’s not true,” Dean whispered. It was all he could get out.

Of course, Cas thought that. Of course, she did. He’d essentially--as chick-flick as it was to say--made love to her; that was what it was called, wasn’t it? When someone essentially said they’d been falling for you for years and then you fucked slowly on a bed while looking into each other’s eyes and holding each other until morning? Wasn’t that what it was called? Because he’d done that with Cas, and he’d promised he’d set her up, that he’d teach her things. He’d comforted her when she’d confessed she hadn’t known what she was doing, or if she was the right kind of human, or if she was the right kind of woman.

And then he’d told her she had to go, without offering an explanation. The fact that he’d tried to set her up with money and shelter didn’t really matter, did it? Because she hadn’t known and he hadn’t tried hard enough to find her. He could’ve had every hunter in America keeping an eye out for her, but he hadn’t. He’d been so busy licking his wounds when she’d left, so busy with Sam and Zeke, and with Kevin that he’d let her go. The search had been half-hearted. Castiel always left, and Castiel was always okay. He figured he’d get to her eventually, once the Zeke stuff blew over.

But of course, it was a year later and he was standing in her kitchen, having his ass handed to him because he hadn’t looked for her after a while. Again, he’d just let her go.

“‘It’s not true’,” she whispered back, repeating what he’d said, but her tone was full of disbelief, her head shaking. Cas’ eyes narrowed, but now they were wet and full of fury. She let go of the stove and turned on her heel. She walked out into the small living room and bent over the laundry basket, ducking to pick up fallen items from the floor.

Her voice was oddly flat as she continued speaking. “I’m sorry that I am the ‘closest’ hunter, Dean. That is regrettable for you since I am neither a hunter nor the hunter you would have chosen regardless. I’m not ‘in the life’, as you and Sam say. I realised, after leaving the Men of Letters bunker, that there isn’t anything for me in hunting. There are better, more useful people who are better equipped to follow that path. My path, it seems, was laid out for me from the moment I left the bunker, even if I hadn’t known it at the time.”

He was glad she had taken a slight veer to her tangent, because if he had to address the accusations from before, he would be sick all over the carpet. He wasn’t ready to face that yet. Dean took the three steps it took to cross the kitchen and stood in the threshold to her living room, licking his lips and growing a set of balls to reply.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he whispered, shaking his head. He raised his hands and flicked his splayed fingers as he listed off rushedly, “You’re a freakin’ master of melee combat and hand-to-hand combat. You speak like a bajillion languages, and you know everything and anything about monsters and lore and...fuck, Cas, who cares about the other stuff? I don’t care about how clean your apartment is or if you take the bus! That shit isn’t important, Cas. Have some clarity, there are babies and kids dying and you don’t care? You’d rather nanny them than save their lives?”

It had been a mistake. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. In his typical style, Dean had started off strong, but spiraled, his anger and emotions overruling the filter in his brain that screamed at him to come to a screeching halt.

Cas was lifting the laundry basket up off the couch, but she froze as she was half-turning away, and then slowly turned towards him, her knuckles turning white on the handles. Her eyes were wide, the whites glittering in the street lamp that shone through her balcony sliding door.

“How can you…” but she trailed off, and her features closed off, her mouth pressing into a thin line. Her eyes went hooded and Cas shook her head, turning away.

“Get out of my apartment,” she said curtly, walking away, towards the hallway where her roommate was sleeping. “Be quiet when you close the door behind you.”

He watched her back, and he knew the logical thing to do was to leave. He could send Sam in the morning. She didn’t seem to harbour any negative feelings towards Sam, and maybe, if his visit here had really been about the case, he could wait until tomorrow to get the important information they needed…

But his visit hadn’t been about the case, not entirely.

Dean followed her, his footsteps heavy across the carpet. Just as they both entered the hallway, Dean curled his hand around her shoulder and turned her around.

Cas glared at him. “I said get--”

“Why are you being like this?” Dean hissed. “Kids are gonna die out there, and you’re the only one in town who knows anything about this thing! Stow your crap, Cas, and stop being such a bitch--”

The word wasn’t even out of his mouth completely before Cas threw the basket aside and grabbed Dean by the lapels of his coat. His back was slammed so hard against the corridor wall that there was a crack of plaster under him and the wind was knocked from his lungs.

Cas crowded him so closely he felt the enraged puffs of her breath against his lips and he felt the shaking of her knuckles against his chest.

“Do not,” she hissed, “call me a bitch in my own home. You don’t _ever_ get to talk to me with such disrespect again. Never, do you understand?”

Dean opened his mouth to apologize profusely, all the anger that’d been balled up in his stomach springing to life and unwinding like a ball of yarn. He was frozen under her weight, petrified for a moment, his brain briefly forgetting that she wasn’t an angel anymore.

His apology was cut short before it even started. She shook him, knocking his head against the wall hard enough to hurt but not to do any damage. Her voice trembling, she whispered, “You don’t understand anything about me, about who I am now. You don’t know what I have, or what I do, or what I have to do daily to survive. You don’t know what you did--”

She was cut off abruptly by the wailing of an infant just on the other side of the door right beside them.

They both held their breath, and the apartment was filled with the high pitched crying and hiccuping. Cas’ eyes went wide, and Dean’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, “is that a--”

“Get out,” she whispered, releasing him, stepping back until her own back hit the other wall in the corridor. She seemed frozen in place.

“Get out.”


	3. Leia

_“_ _Do not call me a bitch in my own house. You don’t ever get to talk to me with such disrespect again. Never, do you understand? You don’t understand anything about me, about who I am now. You don’t know what I have, or what I do, or what I have to do daily to get by. You don’t know what you did--”_

Castiel’s words had been playing on repeat in Dean’s mind for the last twelve hours. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, deservedly so. His brain to mouth filter had severely malfunctioned under the pressure of Cas’ accusations and confessions. What person in their right mind would call someone who was so hurt a ‘bitch’? Dean had done his fair share of stupid things in his life but that had to be top three, at least. The guilt and regret had gnawed at him so badly throughout the night that he had to hunch over the toilet for a good half-an-hour, so sick to his stomach he thought he was going to puke. Also, the anxiety that had settled inside him at the first shrill cry from the infant in Cas’ apartment had left a trembling, uneasy feeling in his stomach that refused to go.

Dean was jerked from his reverie when Sam lurched open the door to the Impala’s driver’s side, and he slipped in. Dean pulled his fingers away from his mouth where he’d been gnawing at his nails and settled them in his lap. He nodded across the street to Cas’ apartment building.

“So?” Dean asked, trying to sound calm, though he knew Sam could see through him like he was made of glass. “What’s the verdict?”

Sam sighed, turning on the ignition and staring out of the windshield with a frown on his lips. “Well, according to Cas, it entirely depends on if the Zchitri had an established second cave. Those babies might still be alive if it has to prepare more pods. The creature has to lay them and can only do so at night. Cas isn’t sure if last night was enough time or if it takes a few nights. So, we gotta crack down and see if we can find any caves.”

Sam threw the car into drive, but before he did, he glanced over at Dean, who was scowling at him, shaking his head.

“What?” Sam groused.

Dean glared at him. “When I said ‘what’s the verdict’, I meant about that freakin’ baby in Cas’ apartment.”

“Oh.” Sam shifted in his seat, looking strangely nervous. A muscle jumped in his jaw and Sam threw the car back into park, turning his body a bit to face Dean.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean groaned. “That’s a bad sign.”

Sam winced. “The baby, it, uh...belongs to Cas, Dean. She…she doesn’t have a roommate.”

Dean massaged the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, Sam, I figured. I figured the roommate thing was a lie.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and Sam looked distracted, staring at a knob on the dashboard with intent.

“She said she found out she was pregnant a few months after she left the bunker,” Sam murmured, running his fingers through his hair.

“Oh,” Dean murmured, his stomach feeling heavy, his chest occupied suddenly by two giant rocks where his lungs should be.

Sam sighed, and the sound made Dean look up, noticing the exhausted look under his brother’s eyes. “She says she had the kid at some hospital around here… Dean, Cas has a _kid_. I mean, where’s the dad? Do you...d’you think she was already pregnant when she got to the bunker?” Sam was turning a shade of green that Dean was feeling. Sam’s eyes darted around the sight of the ravine by their car, his eyes unseeing. “Do you think it was some homeless person? I don’t think Cas is some kinda victim just because she’s human, but, like, being homeless is rough. Bad stuff happens, Dean. Maybe someone took advantage of her, maybe…”

“Don’t,” Dean said abruptly, raising his hand. He was ashamed to admit his fingers were trembling. “Don’t say that. Cas would’ve kicked anyone’s ass who tried to take advantage of her, okay?”

“But the reaper…”

“Dude. Dude, shut up or I’m gonna be sick.”

Sam closed his mouth, looking apologetic while Dean pressed fingers to his lips, shaking his head. Sam probably thought that he was scared Cas had been assaulted or knocked up by the reaper, but Dean knew better. The only person who’d had sex with Cas was Dean, unless she’d gone out and immediately slept with someone else. It was a possibility.

God damn Sam for not getting exact details. Dean needed exact details.

The leather under Sam creaked as he shifted in his seat. In a fake cheery voice, Sam offered, “Baby is real cute, though. She’s got these huge blue eyes and lots of brown hair, and I mean, she’s really tiny but Cas said she’s only like ten weeks old. That’s like two-and-a-half months old, but I know...”

The last thing Dean wanted to know was that Castiel’s biological baby was cute. He was still working through the fact that his angel, his warrior of God, had fallen from Heaven, suffered homelessness, was kicked out from her family’s home, and then gotten pregnant like some runaway teen. Castiel was a single mom now and it made him dizzy just thinking about it. The hits just kept on coming for Cas, and Dean wondered how many of those hits were inflicted by him personally.

“...she wouldn’t tell me any real details,” Sam said, still blathering on. Dean realised he’d missed an entire chunk of conversation, and that the car was moving. He looked back through the rear mirror, watching Cas’ apartment building get smaller in the distance.

“...Something is up with her, Dean. She was nice, but kinda panicked, like she didn’t want to see me. Sure, Cas had gotten less robo-angel in the past few years, but she was acting extra weird. Avoiding eye contact and dodging questions about why she left. I know I went up there to ask about the case for you, but I wanted to know why she left and why she was being weird with us at the Harvey’s place. With the case stuff, she was pretty open, but when it came to leaving the bunker and her life after, she was being really selective, I could just sense it.”

Dean forced himself to look up at his brother, though he just wanted to stare out the window and feel his terror and guilt in peace. Sam drummed his fingers over the steering wheel, gazing out at the road with an air of confusion. “I know she’s never been as close with me as she’s been with you, but I kind figured now that she isn’t an angel, she’d be more friendly. I felt like she was trying to rush me out the whole time.”

“It’s five in the morning, Sam,” Dean said in a mumble. Considering her schedule, Dean added in a croak, “She has a baby, a job. She takes the bus.”

“That brings me to another thing,” Sam said slowly, glancing over at Dean with a wince. “You won’t like it.”

Nothing that happened over the last day had been anything Dean liked. “Hit me with it.”

“She had to go change her baby’s diaper, so I sort of snooped while she was gone,” Sam admitted, his cheeks turning a bit pink. “I found out she gets paid in cash, so I dunno if she’s totally documented, Dean. And she only pays like a hundred and fifty bucks for rent. I think that building she’s in is subsidized housing. She has a drawer filled with envelopes, each with different monthly payments in there. Rent, babysitter, phone. I found a letter outlining the conditions of her stay in the transitional home. I think she’s getting a lot of help.”

“Why would I not like that?” Dean asked, shifting in his seat. “I mean, I know everyone thinks I’m an asshole, but I’m happy she’s doin’ what she has to do to taking care of herself, she--”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s not the issue.” Sam waved his hand. “I mean, yeah, it makes me weirdly proud of her. She did all of this on her own and she went from not knowing anything about being a human to like, scheduling her monthly payments. I mean, hell, it’s more adult than we’ve ever been, but, uh...”

Dean snorted but felt no amusement. He could tell from Sam’s face that he hadn’t dropped the bomb yet.

“You gonna tell me the real bad news?”

Air surged from a small hole formed by Sam’s lips and he nodded. “I kinda snooped in her kitchen, too. Dean, she’s got like, nothing in her fridge. There was like, almond milk and some bananas. I think I saw a pack of those fruit gummy things, but otherwise, it’s all baby stuff. Formula, bottles. There’s baby food frozen in the back of her freezer.”

“She’s hoarding it,” Dean murmured, his heart sinking. “Just in case money runs out, d’you think?”

“I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you know how self-sacrificing she is, Dean. What if...she’s not eating because of her kid?”

“That kid’s got a good mom.” Dean’s hands slid between his legs so Sam wouldn’t see them shaking. “She’s probably fine. We probably caught her at a bad time, like in between grocery runs or something.”

“Maybe,” Sam muttered, sounding unconvinced. “Maybe next time we visit, we should give her some cash.”

Dean snorted. “As if she would accept it. Cas is stubborn.”

The judgment that Dean had been waiting for suddenly was present like a black cloud rolling in over the car cabin. Sam’s lips twisted into a scowl and his eyes went a bit dark. “You did call her a bitch apparently, after all,” Sam accused, his voice a bit clipped. “Do you really blame her for not wanting to take anything from you, if it came down to it? I mean, _why’d_ you call her that? You guys used to have at it when she was an angel, sure, but that was different. Calling her a bitch when she’s living in a transitional home and living on babysitting cash seems cruel. Kinda seems like kicking her when she’s down--”

Sam had no idea how right he was.

“I didn’t know!” Dean barked, his face getting hot. “I didn’t know about the envelopes or the baby or how she’s getting help, none of it! She looks the same, Sam, so I kinda forgot she’s not an angel. I kinda just...forgot. I-I lost my temper because she wouldn’t talk to me about the case, and she wasn’t being helpful, and fuck, she was hardly even looking at me. She was being stubborn, and it just slipped out. I hadn’t seen her for a year, and I just wanted to talk to her but she was hardly looking at me, and I dunno...I guess I thought it’d her get attention.”

“It’s not like you, Dean,” Sam murmured. “You gotta apologize.”

By this point, Dean was staring out the passenger window, his forehead pressed into his propped-up palm.

“Yeah, I know.”

The pain in his chest that felt like thorns twined around his heart gave an agonizing tug; Dean felt breathless. Apologizing was the thing he most wanted to do, but he didn’t even know where to start.

Sam’s fingertips dug into Dean’s shoulder as he nudged him, urging him to look over. Dean was met with a small smile.

“Why d’you think she won’t look at you? Maybe if you knew, you could get her to talk to you.”

A bitter huff of amused laughter escaped Dean’s throat and he leaned his face against the window, watching the river zoom by them. “I know why she won’t talk to me, Sam. And you’d hate me, too, if I told you.”

“Cas doesn’t hate you,” Sam reassured kindly. “And I really doubt I’d hate you if you told me.”

But Dean was unconvinced. “Yeah, sure. You dunno what happened.”

“Well, are you going to tell me?”

And this very moment was why Dean hadn’t gone looking for Cas in depth after she left, not really. He wanted her back more than he had the vocabulary to express, but Sam was his little brother, and even though they’d gone their separate ways a few times in the last few years, he couldn’t stand for it to happen again. If Dean told him the truth about Cas, then the truth about Zeke was going to come out. If Sam knew about Zeke, he’d leave Dean in his dust. Dean’d be without Sam and without Cas, and it would be a torment.

Still, Dean felt the truth bubble up in his throat, pushed up by the pressure of guilt that had been rotting his insides out from the second he’d cast the angel out.

“Pull over.”

Although he looked perplexed, Sam pulled over by the park they’d eaten at yesterday. Summoning every ounce of bravery in him, Dean explained how he’d tricked Sam into consenting to angel possession. He told him about Zeke, and the trial recovery. He explained to him that Zeke hadn’t wanted Cas to stay, that she was a beacon, that she was being hunted and he’d leave Sam broken if he left. Dean told Sam about how he got Crowley to help extract the angel, and how they’d lost him, unable to track him down since the extraction.

Dean was three words into a desperate apology when Sam leaned over him, his face unreadable, and he pushed open the door.

“Sam--”

“Get out.”

“Sam, please, I’m _so_ sorry.”

A muscle jumped in Sam’s jaw as he sat back in his seat, his shoulders square, a vein throbbing in his temple, and his hands gripping the wheel in a white grip.

“I said get out,” Sam murmured, staring out ahead of him to the road, eyes shining and full of anger.

Dean started to get out of the car, but paused mid-motion, turning a bit, his eyes desperate. “Sam, where are you going?”

“Oh my God!” Sam burst out, cringing with his entire body like if Dean didn’t leave, he’d start swinging. “Just get out! Fucking walk home for all I care, just get out, I can’t even look at you.”

The moment Dean slammed the door behind him, the Impala peeled out into the road, leaving behind her the scent of burnt rubber, black tracks on the road, and the sound of blood rushing in Dean’s ears.

He’d walk back to the motel to either find a few holes in the walls or all of Sam’s stuff gone.

***

While he had initially intended to follow Sam’s advice and walk home, Dean made it as far as across the park before he settled on a bench just outside of the jogging trail that ran through it. The strength of Sam’s reaction compiled with his interaction with Cas had Dean feeling a little breathless. As he settled down on the bench, his hands gripping the wooden behind under his knees, he felt stupid. He was being dramatic and silly, but he felt on the cusp of having a breakdown. How had this little hunt turned into a complete shitshow?

He hadn’t been ready to tell Sam everything; it’d just come out. The conversation had been something he’d rehearsed and replayed in his mind for months, but he’d never gone through with it because he never felt like the time was right, and after a while, he’d almost convinced himself perhaps it was better to say nothing.

And Castiel. He’d thought about her daily for a year now, his heart aching from the angel-shaped hole in it. The guilt, the shame for what he did to her, it ate at him. But what was worse was that he felt longing, a desperate yearning for her that he’d eventually learned to shove down, so deep in him that if he was drunk enough, he could almost pretend never existed.

When he’d first sent her away from the bunker, he’d been better at rationalizing that he’d done the right thing as Zeke carried on healing Sam. But as the months passed, Castiel’s voicemail changed from ‘make your voice a mail’ to the dull, dead dial tone that felt very much like his number had been blocked. His ‘I’ll look for her later’ turned into a desperate, immediate need to find her, especially as Sam grew stronger and time passed. On top of his own desire to make sure she was okay, to talk to her, to be close to her, Sam had begun asking more questions, more pointed, needling questions about Cas’ departure. Sam was confused, Sam was kind of hurt. Cas hadn’t even said goodbye to him, she’d just left.

The point was, Dean had wanted to find Castiel from the moment he’d realised she was gone. But not only did Zeke hold him back, but the shame did as well. How did he deserve to pursue her? She wasn’t his. She’d tried to be, but he chose his brother over her. Again.

He hadn’t expected to see her again. He especially hadn’t expected to see her in this town, in picturesque Ann Arbor, living in an apartment by the lake with her baby. He really hadn’t known what Cas would be up to as a human, really, but Dean, ever since laying eyes on her again in the Harvey’s kitchen, desperately wanted to fix things. He wanted to tell her how he felt, how every nightmare he had involved watching her back as she left the bunker, or how every dream he had involved her. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, and how much he regretted how things went. He wanted to make things better, make amends, offer her every bed in the bunker, offer to finally take her to Walmart to buy her own things. He wanted to show her how to be a human, he wanted to teach her things, and be a guide. He wanted to finally be equals and love her like he had always planned to, eventually, when he’d gotten the balls.

And sitting on the bench in the park, Dean was presented with the chance. His stomach dropped so far down his body he was scared it had come out of his ass.

Cas walked down the jogging trail, a worn purple backpack saddled over her shoulders and one of the smallest humans Dean’d ever seen in her arms. He watched in fascination as the baby's little feet swayed as she walked.

The dirty, used converse on Cas' feet clapped over the chipped pavement, the same ones she’d worn at the bunker nearly a year ago. She wore the same men’s jeans she’d worn at the Harvey’s place, and a blue-striped t-shirt that looked like it had warped in the wash, one sleeve short and uneven compared to the other.

She looked tired, with bags deep under her eyes, and her hair messy as it flapped behind her and over her shoulder. Still, eye-bags and all, she was smiling. Dean’s heart squeezed and filled him with bittersweet warmth as he watched her press a series of kisses into her baby’s nose, and ran her fingers over its hair over and over, petting it with gentleness he’d never seen that damn angel use with anything in her life. She was whispering something into the baby's face, and Dean desperately wanted to know what kind of things his former guardian angel was saying to her child.

For a breathless moment, Dean thought she’d see him and hightail away, but to his surprise, Cas didn’t notice him and instead, walked off the trail, trudging through the grass and disappearing behind a large willow tree that hung over the lazy river.

Dean sat completely still, even though she was out of his sight now and he out of hers, petrified. Between wondering why she wasn’t working, realizing it’s Sunday, and then wondering why she was going for a walk at nearly six in the morning on a Sunday, Dean was working up the courage to approach her. Being so riled up after his confrontation with Sam potentially wasn’t a great time to be talking to Cas, but he felt tremendously drawn to her, his heart pushing against his chest as if urging him to follow it, pulling him towards her. He wanted to see her, to talk to her, to apologize with everything he had done and said from last night and from a year ago...and a deep, soft part of him wanted to see the baby. Cas’ baby. His Castiel had made a human and he wanted to see what it looked like.

Also, the pit in his stomach that was growing by the minute since yesterday, was fearful about where the baby had come from. Sure, maybe Cas got it on with some homeless guy or maybe she’d told Dean a little white lie about how far she’d gone with that reaper, but the little voice in his head did the math, and the little voice was telling Dean that ten weeks ago was just about nine months after their one and only night they’d spent together.

He needed to talk to her.

Summoning some courage, Dean pushed off the bench and walked the short ways down the path to the willow tree by the water. He wiped his hand over his mouth and rubbed his palms over his jeans, drying them, hoping he didn’t look like the sweaty, nervous wreck as he felt inside.

_Be brave. You’ve saved the world, you took on Lucifer, you’ve died, you’ve been to Hell. This is just Cas, and that little thing is just a baby._

Still, he stood behind the tree for at least another minute, flexing his hands at his sides and trying to come up with some kind of explanation as to why he’d just run into her at the park. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked around the tree trunk.

The long, wispy willows fluttered over the river in the light, warm breeze. The sun rose behind the tree, leaving them canopied in soft orange light, both covered in shade but able to enjoy the sun draped over the rest of the park across the water. Cas, before she’d noticed him, was sitting up against the trunk with her baby rested on her thighs. One of her hands held a bottle to its hungry, suckling mouth, the other hand held a half-peeled banana that she gnawed on in between quiet, soft words spoken to the infant, who watched her raptly over the bottle as if entranced and amused. It drank happily and kicked out a bit, its floppy uncoordinated limbs doing a wiggle, its big blue eyes wide and twinkling.

“I guess the rumors are true,” Dean said, sounding deceptively calm, his voice tinged with amusement. “Look at those eyes and that full head of hair; that baby is definitely yours.”

Cas seemed to have retained some of her angelic abilities because she wasn’t started by his sudden presence. She looked up at him at the same time the baby did, though it didn’t bother to stop drinking, its chubby little cheeks puffing and wiggling contently.

“Of course she’s my baby,” Castiel replied flatly, her raspy voice sounding tired. “Where else would I have gotten a baby?”

Dean tugged his hand out of his pocket for a second to wave it around dismissively. “I mean… You wouldn't, I was just… Nevermind. Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” she replied shortly, turning away to return her attention to her small daughter.

While she clearly wasn’t thrilled, Cas’ tone lacked the bite from yesterday, and Dean almost thought this might not be as bad as he thought, but his heart sunk when she set down the banana, leaned forward to curl her hand under her child’s neck, and pulled her baby up to her chest as if shielding the little thing from him. The baby cried out and hiccuped, upset to have the bottle taken away, but Cas readjusted the bottle against her collar bone so her baby could eat, its face turned away from Dean.

“Um, can I sit?” Dean asked, gesturing to the small blanket Cas was sitting on.

Cas pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes out at the river. She shrugged, but pulled her legs up more, simultaneously making room for Dean to sit and shielding her child from Dean’s view like a cautious mama bear.

“You can do whatever you like, Dean,” she replied in a mumble. “Though I suppose you’re asking if you ‘may’.”

“ _May_ I sit?” Dean amended with a playful wiggle of his head, hoping the cheeky grin hid the mixture of annoyance and hurt in his gaze.

She nodded, shifting her legs closer to her body.

“Thanks,” he said as he sat down adjacent to her, his knee grazing hers.

Immediately, she shifted away, breaking the touch. When she did, Dean felt the back of his eyes instantly sting a bit, though he just flashed her a tight smile and forced himself to move on before he could truly over analyze the movement too much.

“So, uh,” he cleared his throat. His hand turned in the air, his pointer finger gesturing towards her and her child. “When did this happen?”

Heat immediately flooded his cheeks at the sheer stupidity of his opener, but it was out there now, and it was too late to take it back. Dean played it casual, rubbing his hands on his knees, hoping Cas didn’t straight up get onto her feet and walk away.

“I already spoke to Sam about the Zchitri,” Cas replied, completely dodging his question. She split her gaze between his face and the lazily flowing river. “I’m unsure if you know, but he stopped by my apartment already to collect more information early this morning. As I explained to him, you should investigate local forestry, keep an eye out for cliffside caverns. The daytime would be the optimal time to act, since Zchitri tend to seek out prey during the day, and tend to their eggs at night. If the new batch of eggs wasn’t laid last night, the children will still be alive, likely in those caves--”

Hearing her voice, though it seemed purposefully guarded, was music to his ears. Dean watched Castiel’s lips as she spoke, and leaned into the way he felt the most relaxed he’d been in a year, embracing for a second the way his chest seemed to lose the weight that constantly pressed into it. His eyes were quickly drawn down to the second pair of big blue eyes that watched him. As Cas went on, she seemed not to notice the baby turn its head in her hand and watch Dean, it’s little mouth opening in a toothless grin. The tiny girl blinked and watched him in intense fascination, and squealed in delight when he found himself smiling back involuntarily, his heart rising from where it had sunken, and warmed in his chest.

“I’m sorry I called you a bitch,” Dean said abruptly, cutting Cas off suddenly. He pulled his eyes up from the smiling baby and met Cas’ eyes. “You’re not a bitch. Never were. I don’t know why I said that. I…”

Birds chirped around them, and in the distance, a swan lounging down the river honked. Under the swaying shadows of the willow tree, Dean and Castiel stared at each other. The features of Cas’ face faltered for a moment, losing the hard edge, the lines around her eyes becoming shallow as she seemed to accept vulnerability for a moment. Her eyes were wide, and her dry full lips parted for a moment as if she was going to say something. Then just as quickly, her eyes narrowed and her head tilted cautiously.

“If we could keep the conversation on the topic of the Zchitri, I would appreciate that, Dean." She looked away, peering down at her baby when she noticed the small girl wasn’t eating anymore and had taken more of an interest in pulling at a long strand of brown hair that’d fallen over Cas’ shoulder.

As she set down the bottle and worked on extracting her hair from the baby’s grasp, Dean made a choking noise and huffed, frustration winding in his chest, tightening his heart and making his face hot. He gestured to the baby.

“Cas, I-I just want to apologize, jeez!” He shook his head and he rubbed at his palms as they began sweating again. With a tone of frustration, he went on, talking with his hands and feeling more desperate as the moments ticked by where Cas seemed more pissed off and closing up. “Look, you have no idea why I kicked you out of the bunker, okay? It was a hard decision to make--”

He was immediately cut off when Cas pulled her child close to her chest and got to her feet, ducking down to one-handedly yank the blanket up off the ground and shove it onto her open, lumpy backpack. The banana rolled onto the ground, now covered in dirty and crumbled fall leaves.

Dean blinked, watching her jerky movements and glancing up at Cas’ closed off expression, taking in the hard line of her jaw and the swirling fury in her eyes.

“What’re you doing? Where are you going?” he asked rushedly.

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Cas snapped, tugging at the zipper to the backpack, only getting it halfway before she lurched it up onto her shoulder. Her baby made little high pitched noises of protest, kicking and squirming in Cas’ arms as she adjusted her against her chest.

For a girl with her arms full of backpack and baby, she moved fast, sweeping around the tree and walking back up to the path before Dean had even started to get up. He jumped to his feet and pursued her.

Throwing his arms up at his side as he fell into step with her, Dean asked heatedly, “I’m trying to apologize!”

“You’re trying to console yourself,” Cas clipped, her hair blowing out behind her as she power-walked away. Her brows jumped up onto her forehead as she added hotly, “Your apology isn’t for me, it’s for you. I admit to being naive about many facets of humanity, Dean, but I am not naive to the facets of _you_ , which I have discovered are shockingly few.”

Ouch.

Dean swallowed down a rapid-fire response, remembering how that had gotten him in trouble last time. He was going to say something, but Cas took the opportunity for him, continuing on, her words a clipped as her stride.

“If it’s all the same for you, Dean, I’d rather you did not _apologize_. Apologies are supposed to exist to make the other party feel comfort, but the thought of you explaining to me how _you_ were hurt by your decision to turn me away from your home when I desperately needed a home, makes me want to smite you.” She adjusted her baby in her arms, doing that thing where she was trying to block the baby from Dean’s view. Her lips were rosy from pressing together so hard, and her voice was shakier now, but not with tears. Rage danced on every syllable, and Dean found himself silent under the weight of her anger.

“Forgive me,” she continued, words punctuated by the flat rubber bottoms of her converse snapping against the black pavement, “if I don’t find sincerity in your apology. Especially when you don’t understand what sending me back onto the streets meant for me. You don’t know what it was like, or what I’ve gone through, so I hardly care for your apology. It would be hollow and uninformed!”

After dislodging the lump in his throat and trying to focus around the rushing of blood in his ears, Dean said, “Then explain it to me, Cas! You didn’t pick up the phone, you blocked my number. I tried looking for you, once I could, and you were the one who didn’t want to be found!”

Dean nearly tripped and fell onto his face when Castiel laughed suddenly, the sound not only unfamiliar but unbelievably strange as it was bitter.

“You want me to explain?” Cas laughed coldly, shaking her head, her eyes narrowing at the path in front of her. Reverting to her mood from last night, Cas refused to look at him. “Where would you like me to start, Dean?” she asked, shifting her baby closer, holding Leia’s small neck in her palm with gentle hands, though her face was alight with rage, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “Perhaps I should start with how I had to walk from town to town in the heat with no shelter, no money, no clothing other than the ones I had on my back? Or should I begin with being arrested four separate times because locals believed me to be drunk and disorderly--”

Alarm bells rung so loud in Dean’s head he had to give himself a good shake. Perplexed, he stared at the side of her face and asked loudly, “What?! How? When?”

The bitter laugh rasped over Cas’ tongue, tumbling from her mouth as she shook her head. “When bathrooms are for customers only, and you’re not a customer, morning sickness becomes a problem, Dean. Especially when it was constant, came with nearly no warning, and only felt better when I was lying down. I suppose locals didn’t like the filthy homeless woman lying down on the park benches and being sick in every trashcan nearby.”

When Dean looked over, her cheeks were pink. “Imagine my surprise when, after my fourth arrest, the officers I’d fallen into a first name basis with asked if I was pregnant. Shall I tell you how humiliating and frightening it was for three police officers to stand around me and stare at me in pity when I didn’t know the answer to that? Or shall I tell you about how I was made to take a pregnancy test in the precinct, and child protective services was called in to inform me of ‘my options’.”

“My god,” Dean breathed, his eyes burning, his imagination running wild with the imagery Cas was painting for him.

“God,” Cas huffed, shaking her head, “has nothing to do with this. God wasn’t there to help me get housing, or apply for help. I suppose the bright side of your exile was that I found _others_ who restored my faith in humanity. Resource centers that directed me to programs and free medical help. I met men and women who wanted to help empower the impoverished population to rise from depression and desperation. When I discovered I...I was pregnant, I was in Iowa. A local community center offered free medical grants for people like me; pregnant, without family, left with nothing. They shuttled me to doctor’s appointments and covered the costs.”

While Dean struggled not to look as sick as he felt, Castiel went on, shoving a rogue lock of hair behind her ear. “God didn’t lift a finger, but those people did. In your absence, I had the staff teach me how to be a good human.” Her eyes shone, clearly pulled back in a memory that didn’t involve Dean. “Those good, pure people helped me learn how to be a good mother and how to take care of myself. They helped me develop skills--marketable skills.”

Cas finally looked over at Dean, but the look in her eye was bitter and her mouth was turned down in the corners. “You would look down on how I took help, I’m sure, just as you look down on my job and my home and my status in general--” (Dean was going to be sick. How could she believe he thought like that?) “--but what else was I supposed to do?”

They’d reached the end of the jogging trail and were now on her street, just a ways down from her building. Cars drove by them, the inhabitants probably going to work or going to drop their kids off at school. They had no idea the monumentally depressing stuff Cas was confessing to Dean on the sidewalk.

She finally was looking at him, turned to face him as she stopped. He knew he should say something, but if he opened his mouth, he might cry and Castiel was right; he wasn’t allowed to apologize because obviously, he had no idea what she’d been through. What she was telling him was probably a drop in the bucket. He was emotional, but he had to hide it. The guilt he felt? The shame? He deserved all of it for what he put her through. It suddenly didn’t matter that he’d intended on getting her money and shelter. The fact of the matter was that _he hadn’t_ gotten her those things. When she left, he didn’t get in his car and drive around endlessly until he found her. He’d looked, sure, but if he was honest with himself, it had been half-hearted, knowing that if he found her, he wouldn't be able to take her in regardless.

As usual, he’d assumed Cas would be fine. Castiel was always fine.

“What else was I supposed to do?” she repeated hoarsely, searching Dean’s face, the anger still alive in her eyes, though the lines in her face etched there with a sense of hopelessness that made Dean’s stomach hurt. She went on, shaking her head. “I can’t ever be the human you think I should be, Dean. I couldn’t even be the angel you thought I should be.”

“That’s not true,” Dean croaked, finally finding his voice after minutes of festering in a shocked, shameful silence as she’d told her story.

But Cas' brows knit together as she scrutinized his face. Her shoulders sagged and she adjusted her daughter in her arms, giving up on pulling the hair from the tiny fist’s grasp. Quietly, and with an air of exhaustion, Cas said, “It _is_ true. I saw it in your eyes when you saw me in the Harvey’s kitchen. You don’t think I’m a very good human; you’ve judged me. You’ve judged every facet of my humanity; my job, my home. You’ve mocked me for being a nanny, for taking the bus, for where I live. I…”

She hugged her small child to her, an uncharacteristic glimmer of hesitancy and hurt sparking in her eyes under furrowed brows. “...I can’t imagine how you judge me for Leia. Admittedly, Dean, I don’t want to know. Even though I know you think I’ve done everything wrong, and that I’ve failed again, which you may, in fact, be correct about, I think I’m doing this one thing right. If you think I’m a fool for having a child, I don’t want to know. I-I’ll admit to this weakness; your judgment on this one thing would be unbearable.”

It’s why she’d tried to shield him from the kid, why she’d tried to kick him out of her apartment, and why she’d lied about having a roommate.

Despite the sun beating down on them in spots through the trees, Dean felt cold, his fingers stiff like ice at his sides. He licked his lips and stared at the side of the baby’s head, something pounding in his chest as he looked at her little nose and the shape of her eyes that didn’t quite look like Cas.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Dean whispered, shaking his head. The stare they shared was turbulent, shaking with all the emotion held it in, straining under the weight unspoken words held. He reached out and pressed his fingers to her arm, feeling unwelcome to touch her anymore, not after everything she’d been through because of him. Cas didn’t pull away like she had when their knees had brushed, but she tilted her chin up to show defiance. He couldn’t possibly tear his gaze away from her eyes, whirling with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t pin, shining under the morning light.

With a breath that shook, he exhaled slowly and admitted hoarsely, shrugging his shoulders. “I know it doesn’t mean much to you now, I know it doesn’t fix anything, but there was a reason I had to ask you to leave. I swear to God that there was a reason. I didn’t want to, Cas. It--”

“I believe you,” she murmured.

Dean looked up, surprised. “You do?”

Cas nodded, but the look on her face squashed any flutters of hope Dean had. She stared at the top button of his shirt and rasped flatly, “But it doesn’t make a difference. The fact remains that I spent the last year of my life feeling lonely and unwanted. I was lost.”

If he had to walk, Dean wasn’t sure he’d be able to. Cas pulled the breath out of his lungs with her words, and he felt weak in the knees, the realization that nothing he could say would fix things made him feel empty.

Cas continued though, lost in her own mind as she gazed at his lips. “When I was an angel, I had the capacity to forgive and let go of grudges, and I appreciated solitude. The grace that thrummed inside me helped me detach emotions from existence, and pain was a sensation but nothing more. Now, I can’t separate emotion or pain from who I am, and I don’t yet know how to manage it. I want to forgive but every time you try to say you’re sorry, I feel anger, and Dean, I don’t have the energy to be angry.”

Leia shifted in her arms, blowing a spit bubble.

“Leia needs me, and I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything.” She looked up, her skin drained of colour. “Even more than I loved you.”

Dean felt sweat trickle down his spine that had nothing to do with the rising sun hitting his back.

“You can’t be here. When you’re around I feel ungrounded,” Cas admitted. “I’d just started to make sense of my human life and my purpose, but now you’ve brought yourself, and Sam, and hunting, and uncertainty back into my life. I want you to go before you ruin everything. I’ve failed at so much, Dean, but I won’t fail at being a good mother.”

Castiel turned slowly, her gaze lingering on his face, looking broken. Then she turned away completely and walked down the sidewalk, pressing her lips to Leia’s head, her shoulders hunched.

With every step she took away from him, Dean felt air punch out of his lungs, and his blood seemed to tremble as it rushed through his veins. Castiel was walking away from him and if he didn’t chase after her, he suddenly knew for certain that she wouldn’t turn around. She would absolutely leave him behind, even if she didn’t want to. Could he let her go, again? Was it selfish to drag her back into his life if all he did was complicate hers? He _would_ ruin it, he knew it.

But he had to know…

“Cas!” Dean choked out, realising his eyes were wet and his sinuses burned with emotions that rushed up from his chest and stung the back of his eyes. To his surprise, Cas turned around and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at him with intensity. She hardly seemed to breathe.

“Leia…” Dean asked, lifting a hand that felt weak to gesture at the tiny human falling asleep against Cas’ neck. “Is she mine?”

A motorcycle zoomed by and the trees shuffled as breeze shifted the branches above them. Sunlight danced over Cas’ face, but it felt like she was shrouded in shadow, her face solemn.

Castiel shook her head.

“No.”

The heartache Dean felt was unprecedented as he watched her turn around and leave, feeling like he lost something he’d never even had.

***

The walk back to the motel took 45 minutes, but Dean appreciated every minute of time he bought getting back, because he needed every single one to gather himself. He circulated through every emotion he knew how to feel, and by the time he stepped onto the motel property, his chest was aching with regret and longing.

He felt shaken at the idea that he wouldn’t see Cas again, and that he hadn’t gotten an opportunity to hold Leia or take a good look at her. Even if she wasn’t his, she was Castiel’s and that was reason enough to want to embrace her like family, to want to keep her safe. She was so small.

He wished he could’ve held her.

Fuck, he wished he could’ve held Cas, too. But the thoughts of guilt and rumination about why he was undeserving haunted Dean all the way back to the motel. He crossed the parking lot, drowning in his own mind, and walked right past the Impala towards the room.

A loud honk made him jump, and Dean spun around, his hand reaching for his gun tucked in his jeans.

Sam scowled at him from the driver’s seat of the Impala.

“Is your phone broken?” he snapped, eyeing Dean coldly.

Licking his lips and struggling for words, Dean ducked his head and fished his phone from his jeans, pulling it out only to find that it was dead. “No battery,” Dean replied, raising the phone and waggling it. Wincing, he croaked, “You, uh, called?”

“Only twelve times,” Sam replied in a clipped manner. “Where were you?”

Dean scowled, approaching the car slowly. “Oh, I was chatting with Cas, and then I, you know, walked my ass all the way back here because you dumped me on the side of the road like I was a bag of weed and the cops had pulled you over.”

Sam’s big hand flopped out of the open driver’s seat window, his face long as he scoffed, his mouth dropping open.

“Are you joking?” Sam asked, miffed. “After what you told me, after everything you’ve done, you seriously sass me for needing space? You are _so_ selfish.”

Feeling absolutely exhausted, Dean raised his hands to his face and rubbed. As soon as his eyes ached sufficiently from being smushed into his skull, Dean yanked his hands away and threw them up in the air.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean conceded tiredly. “I know I am.”

The scowl Sam targeted him with was grouchy, but the fire that Sam usually held in his eyes when he was planning on giving up on Dean and driving away was not present. He looked resigned. With a sigh, Dean put his hand on the edge of Baby’s hood and leaned down, reflecting Sam’s scowl, though his was solemn.

“What’re you doing all camped up in the Impala anyway?” Dean asked, jerking his head towards their room. “Perfectly good chairs in there for you to--deservedly--glare at me from.”

Sam raised a hand and ran his fingers through his hair, seeming to let go of some anger. His face looked sombre.

“The room is trashed,” Sam sighed. “I got here like fifteen minutes ago to find the place turned upside down. None of our stuff was gone, but there was vandalism.”

“What, so you think it was a bunch of punks or--”

Dean pushed off the Impala when Sam opened the door without warning and climbed out, avoiding Dean’s eye, but nodding towards their room.

“You gotta see it. You won’t like it.”

Sam was right. Dean didn’t like it.

_I’LL TAKE YOURS._

The words were written across the wall in blood, big, mad, and dripping, scarlett dribbles coagulating into the stained, yellowing wallpaper above their beds.

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, staring at the words, his stomach filling with cold air, his spine rattling as he shivered. “Do you think he opened the Chamber of Secrets?”

Sam groaned from behind him. “A Harry Potter joke? Really?”

His brother was right, not only was it inappropriate, but his heart wasn’t in it, knowing that tensions were too tight between him and Sam right now for his stupid sense of humor to shatter. That and the usual spark of amusement in his own chest was missing, the only resounding sensation in the space being an ache.

Dean began to pace the room, taking in the bed covers that had been ripped apart, and their luggage strewn across the floor and on furniture, like it’d been thrown about. Their weapons were scattered over the bed and carpet.

“You sure they didn’t take anything?” Dean asked gruffly, tugging a hoodie off the corner of a cabinet. “No books or amulets?”

“Despite it’s message,” Sam murmured, “there isn’t anything of ours missing. I think it came here to grab one of us to use as bait to lure the other. I think it knew we were separated.”

“Ah,” Dean said. “The usual M.O., then. Well, we should stick together then. If it’s huntin’ one of us, it’ll be better the other was here to kick it’s ass and set that bitch on fire.”

Sam looked like spending more time with Dean was the last thing he wanted to do. With his jaw jumping and his brows folded into a frown, he signed heavily and began moving around the space, picking up his things that’d been strewn about.

“I went to check out the area with the caves,” Sam admitted. “Just wanted to do a quick sweep to see if he missed anything.”

“Alone?!”

“Alone.” Sam threw Dean a bitch face and tossed a few t-shirts into his bed, turning back to pick up toiletries from his tipped-over bag. “I ended up finding blood leading out of the caves. I followed it for some time, even found some shoe prints along it, but the trail faded. I was going to look anyway, but I figured getting killed wouldn’t do us any good, and you wouldn’t know where to look if something happened to me. Other people would get killed. _But_ I did find that it led to another area of the park that had a shitload more caves. A bit of research in the car while I was waiting for you revealed that there’s a ravine that should have some caverns in the rocks there… Worth a shot, right?”

Dean slumped down on his bed, looking around at the trashed room, including the six-pack of beer he’d bought at one point, just crushed and spilled all over the floor. What a waste.

“Yeah,” he concurred. “We should check it out.”

Sam walked into the bathroom, replacing his toiletries. From within, he said, “We should restock supplies, then hit up the caves at nightfall.”

“Sure.”

“Then we gank the thing and go home,” Sam concluded.

Dean’s heart dropped. He felt a discomfort in his stomach that made his insides go cold, and he looked up in time to see Sam retreat from the washroom, a grave look on his face.

“Go home?” Dean repeated weakly.

Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Without Cas? Dean’s mouth went dry. He nodded. “Okay. Home. Right. Uh, but before we do that--before we gank this motherfucker and go home, there’s something I think we gotta do.”

Like a mind reader, Sam hesitated, but then asked, “For Cas?”

“For Cas.” Dean rubbed at his lips, feeling distracted. Then he swivelled his eyes up at his brother and raised his brows. “You wanna make a pitstop before supplies?”

***

When Dean knocked on the apartment door, his rapping was soft. He didn’t want to damage the door--they cost 40 dollars--and he didn’t want to wake the baby. Dean shifted on his feet, feeling nervous, swallowing hard, adjusting the bags hanging from his palms, and staring up at the ceiling as he hoped and prayed the door would open.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean murmured under his breath when he heard a bit of thumping and noises from inside. He heard footsteps eventually, luckily moments before he was going to knock again and undoubtedly annoy her.

The door swung open and Dean’s nose was pleasantly assaulted with the smell of Cas; lemons and cinnamon, that warm familiar smell, now mixed with the flowery smell of shampoo. Her hair was damp, and she was clearly winding down for the night, her skin shiny and patchy like she’d just gotten out of the shower. Dean quickly glanced over her, appreciating the sweatpants hanging loosely from her hips and the maroon hoodie--the homeless hoodie, he’d dubbed it--zipped up haphazardly, revealing a complete lack of anything underneath. She must’ve noticed him staring, and she blushed, zipping it up more, clearing her throat and shifting over a bit, doing that thing where she was trying to shield him from looking into the apartment.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked briskly, a brow raised. “Sam said he’d found the cavern, he said you two were going to slay the Zchitri…”

Excuses, Dean thought. He needed to come up with an excuse, but instead, he licked his lips despite his mouth feeling dry, and Dean replied honestly, “I brought stuff.”

Cas blinked at him. The plastic bangs shuffled against each other as he raised them slightly at his sides and grinned a bit at her, hoping he looked more relaxed than he felt.

“You brought me things?”

Her tone was cautious and careful, paired suitably with her eyes narrowing. She made him feel like something to be wary of and that feeling made his stomach hurt, but Dean continued to act nonchalant.

“Yeah,” he laughed, shaking a handful of bags. “Can I come in and drop these off before Sam and I head out of town? My arms are kinda going numb.”

Castiel wasn’t budging. She leaned on the door and scowled. “I don’t need anything.”

Dean’s smile faded to nothing, his mouth pressed into a line as he tried to think of something else to say. Under her suspicious gaze, Dean decided that honesty was the best policy, for once.

With a heavy sigh, Dean murmured, “Please let me give you this. There’s food, and medication, and baby stuff. I wasn’t sure what you already had so I kinda grabbed a bunch of stuff…”

As he trailed off, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t for Cas to look a bit heartbroken, shifting on her feet and her mouth opening and closing a few times.

Breathily, her eyes dropped down to stare longingly at the bags, Cas repeated with a weakness to her tone, “I don’t need anything.”

But when Dean growled softly under his breath and stepped forward, pushing the door open with his foot, Cas merely stepped out of the way and didn’t move to stop him when Dean shuffled past her and sidestepped into the kitchen. The floorboards under the musty carpet creaked under her feet behind him as she followed him, pausing at the doorway to watch him drop the bags onto her counter and table since neither surface could fit all the bags he had on its own.

“I got a bunch of non-perishables,” Dean prattled on, hoping that if he kept talking she wouldn’t interrupt or stop him, and hoping that if he kept his hands busy, she wouldn’t see them shake. “That shit basically never expires so you can keep it for a while. There’s like, granola bars and stuff, too so you can eat on the way to work and no one on the bus is gonna stare at you weird, ‘cause it’s not like you’re eating a bowl of cereal, heh. And, like, there’s other things in here that I let the lady at the store pick out. Just so you know when you open that bigger box and there’s a breast sucker thing in there…” Dean shrugged, wincing at Cas as he gestured to one particular bag that seemed to have corners. “Eh, but, uh, you probably already have that, right? I dunno. I’ll give you the receipt, you can exchange stuff if you already got it, I--”

“I can’t take this from you,” Castiel whispered, staring at the bags, looking a million miles away.

Dean snorted. “I have limited uses for a breast pump, Cas. That one is all you.”

When Cas lifted her eyes from the bags, they looked a bit red, and a bit too shiny. Dean’s grin faltered and fell, and he looked away, his hands gripped around some cans he’d been able to put away for her. Music from her living room played quietly, and Leia made little grumpy noises around the corner. The both stood still for a moment, and Dean found that the sadness that was seeping into his skin from the environment around him made it hard for him to move, or even look at Cas.

“I...have to go feed Leia. You should go.”

Dean swallowed, his throat feeling rough. Hoarsely, he replied, “Go for it, Cas. I’m not gonna spy on you.”

He continued to poke around in the bags and was relieved when Cas sighed and ducked away, disappearing around the wall. With a heavy heart and limbs like lead, Dean carried on taking things out of the bags. He moved around her kitchen, poking around the cabinets that were depressingly empty, and filling them with food. The veggies his conscience had told him to buy got stored in the fridge, while the vitamins and medications he’d bought all got placed atop the back of her stove, against the wall.

The phone rang not two minutes later and Dean nearly jumped a foot in the air, thrown off by the old, but familiar sound of Cas’ generic ringtone. His ears straining to hear, he heard Cas suck in a sharp breath and swear. Alarmed, Dean forgot about the bags and peered around the wall to the living room. Cas was staring at the phone in her hand, which she struggled to hold as Leia squirmed in her arms, tiny hands grasping at Cas’ hoodie, and her baby fingernails leaving streaks over the swell of Cas’ half-exposed breast in attempts to stay latched on.

“You have to go,” Cas ordered, staring hard at the phone. “Go, now.”

“Cas--”

Pulled away from the nipple that fed her, Leia released an ear-piercing shriek just as Cas raised her phone to her ear and struggled to readjust her child _and_ do up her hoodie.

“Leia, please,” Cas pleaded. The phone slipped off her shoulder and bounced onto the couch. Fighting with a struggling, screeching baby and trying to grab the phone, Cas looked panicked. On an instinct he couldn’t describe, Dean swept into the room and picked up the phone, holding it to Cas ear.

She tilted her head down and clamped the phone in place. “Hi! Hello. Hello, Barbara. I-I’m here.”

Leia released an ear piercing shriek that had both adults cringe and Cas stammering into the phone. “No, she is fine. She’s just… She’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about--”

Running to autopilot, Dean curled down close to Cas and carefully took the infant from her, which only made her look more panicked, but between the struggling and the person on the phone just an inch from Leia’s ear-rupturing screams, he figured he was being helpful. Cas seemed to realise it too, because she didn’t snatch her baby back, though she did look immediately pale at the sight of Dean holding Leia.

“Take the call,” Dean whispered, settling down beside Cas, leaning back on the couch and folding the kicking, flailing kid against his chest. He mouthed, “I got ‘er.”

The hesitant shine in Cas’ eye was hurtful, but she did nod and slowly get up, walking towards the kitchen.

“I’m fine, yes, Barbara…”

Leia wailed, her little nose and eyes scrunched up, her tiny mouth and thin lips wide open. Even so, looking like the world had ended, she was ridiculously cute with her soft tuft of brown hair curled up in the front, wisping around as she kicked. Drawn to the curl, Dean rubbed it down against her head, pushing it away from her face with the most gentle touch he could manage.

“Heeeey,” he whispered, making little clicking noises with his tongue to distract the baby. “Heeey, Princess Leia, that’s a lot of crying. You sound like a baby.”

He chuckled at his own joke, and to his surprise, the baby inhaled a series of shuddering breaths, but her eyes opened, the watery blue turning on him, looking curious through her misery, following his lips with her eyes as he spoke.

“Oh, such a hard life you have,” Dean teased, bouncing her gently in his arms, the back of his knuckles sweeping over her cheeks. “Sleeping and eating and pooping and touching boobs all day. I don’t envy you, that’s stressful.”

Leia nudged her nose up against Dean’s finger, and while fat tears dripped down the side of her face, she had stopped shrieking, instead opting for staring at him in confusion. To be fair, he was a strange dude who’d plucked her from her mother’s breast and interrupted snack time. But at least she found him somewhat captivating and left Cas free to take the phone call.

“That’s it.” Dean ran his finger over her nose and over her brow softly, his mouth twitching into a smile. “Can’t be crying when you’re all grown up and about to lead the rebel army, baby girl. You got stuff to do, storm troopers to kick in the face.”

The whimpers melted into soft baby hums, and Leia’s little mouth went all mushy and scrunchy, her eyes wide as she stared at him like he had two heads. Morose situation momentarily forgotten, Dean looked up at Cas with a grin, impressed with himself for calming her down quickly. Granted, he knew she was probably too perplexed to cry rather than impressed with his comedic prowess.

“Yes,” Cas said on autopilot, her eyes locked on her baby, looking so sad for some reason. “Yes, Barbara. I’ll be here tomorrow at seven after my employer relieves me. I-I have childcare arranged during the day, it shouldn’t be a problem… What? No! There’s no one here. No, I’m alone right now, there’s no one else.”

The grin faded and Dean ducked his head, looking away from Cas, who’s shoulders were curled in and her free arm was crossed against her chest like she was in pain. While he watched Leia stare at him, Cas ducked away into the kitchen to finish her call, seemingly accepted that Dean wasn’t going to drop her child or flee with her out a window into the night like the cheeseburgler.

Cas’ voice faded into the background, quiet in the kitchen, joined by some rustle in her cupboards and the suctioning sound of her opening and closing the fridge.

Dean looked down at the child that wasn’t his, feeling a pang of...something. The baby had stopped crying and flailing, now just staring at Dean through wide, wet eyes. She blinked, and then her small hand reached up and batted at his chin. It was the gentlest hit to the face Dean had ever gotten in his life, and it made his stomach turn in the softest, floppiest of ways. He immediately felt warm and reached up to take her hand.

Small fingers curled around his thumb. Leia grinned at him, all gums and smacking lips. She had Cas’ eyes and her thick hair, but--Dean was probably going crazy--he could’ve worn those were his brows and almost shaped eyes. Her chin was dimpled, but her lips reminded him of Sam’s. Holding her was reminiscent of all those times he held Sam in the back seat of the Impala, trying to distract him so he wouldn’t cry and upset their dad.

He sat with her for a few minutes, trying to eavesdrop on Cas’ conversation, but she was hushed in the kitchen.

“Brrrrrr. Brrrraaaah,” Leia said, blowing a bubble of spit at him.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I agree. Who’s your mom talking to, anyway?”

Leia replied by scrunching her face and rubbing into his shirt, her mouth gaping, and little noises of upset escaping her throat.

He held her more snuggly, and to his surprise, a bottle was waved in his face. Dean looked up to see Cas nodding into the phone like the person on the other side could see her, the device trapped between her face and shoulder. He noticed her wipe some milk onto the jeans from her wrist, no doubt from testing its warmth.

Understanding suddenly, Dean took the warm bottle and adjusted Leia, rubbing the nipple of the bottle against her lips. The baby immediately latched on, and he felt a jolt of pride. He was rusty, but he remembered how to do this.

“Got it,” he mouthed at Cas, smiling despite how stressed Cas looked. She rubbed at her forehead and swept out of the room again, gnawing on her lip.

“Mhmmn. I’ll be ready. Thank you, Barbara. Yes, feel free to come in around that time. I’ll leave the door unlocked.” She paused. “Of course. Goodbye.”

Leia wriggled happily, smacking Dean in the chest as she stared up at him.

“You’re welcome,” Dean replied, winking at her.

The floorboards under the old carpet creaked as Cas returned, her cheeks tinted pink.

“Thank you,” she said, though she looked and sounded stressed, watching Leia nervously. Before Dean could answer, she held out her hands. “I can take her now. I...am off the phone.”

Dean held back from saying, ‘Yeah, obviously’, and instead just shrugged and said, “I got her for now. Chill for a second, you look like you need a break.”

Instead of relaxing, Cas just looked more strained as she stared at her daughter, who was snuggled comfortable in Dean’s arms, drinking contently. “No,” Cas insisted, “give her back. You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have given me those things.”

“Why?” Dean scowled. “Look, no offence, but you don’t have a lot of stuff, Cas. And I know you said you believe me about there being a reason we turned you away from the bunker, but that’s not the same as forgiveness. A-And like, I’m not saying you gotta forgive me, ‘cause if I were you, I probably wouldn’t. But, uh, I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of, y’know?”

“I don’t need help,” Cas replied, but her tone carried the same lack of conviction it’d held when she’d initially told him she didn’t need the items.

“Right,” he said, sounding unconvinced. Then, Dean cursed himself and reminded himself firmly that he was trying to not be a dick to Cas, who clearly didn’t deserve it. Clearing his throat, he added, “I just came to drop off stuff, Cas. Sorry. I...don’t meant to act like a jerk. I just wanted to give you stuff so you’re not struggling. If, uh,” he shifted again, the couch creaking under him and Leia grunting in annoyance in his arms. “If it’s alright with you, Cas, Sam and I wanna send you money and stuff, once we get back to the bunker. We travel light with cash. There’s like, five hundred bucks in one of those grocery bags. It was kinda all we had on us, but we got more at the bunker. We--”

Cas ran a hand through her hair, and Dean thought her eyes looked kind of red. He noticed her roots were a bit oily, and she probably needed a shower. He’d be willing to stay to give her time to herself, to look after her kid for an hour. He’d--

“You can’t just be giving me money and _things,”_ she said in a growl, sounding annoyed but looking distressed. She blinked hard and said firmly, “When Barbara comes tomorrow, she’ll ask me where I got all these things, and she’ll want to know how I could afford it. There’ll be questions, Dean. She’ll--”

Dean leaned forward, holding Leia carefully, but shifting closer to Cas. He forced her to meet his eye and said, “Cas, all this stuff? It’s not just, like, frivolous. It’s food. People need food. It’s shit you need. Who the fuck is Barbara anyway and why the hell does she care?”

Cas lowered her eyes, picking at a rip in the knee of her jeans. Her tongue darted out to swipe over her lips.

Then Dean realised, from her silence, and from his memory of her calendar, that tomorrow was Monday.

“CPS,” he breathed. Sam had told him CPS was probably visiting Cas, but it was an entire different story to see Cas deal with them, and see how strained it made her. How fucking cruel and twisted was it that an angel, a warrior, a guardian of humanity had a baby and the humans were there to decide if she was fit or not. Louder, hoping his voice was tinted with the dread that made his stomach drop, he repeated, “CPS. Is Barbara with them?”

Cas raised her head, and trained her features to look defiant. Her nose flared a bit and she pressed her lips together tightly, but then she replied, “Yes. They come every week or two. Case workers. Barbara is newer. She’s only been around for a few weeks. My old caseworker moved suddenly. Barbara has only ever spoken to me on the phone, but she’s interested in coming by tomorrow after my shift to see the apartment.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said, swallowing audibly. He turned down his gaze to Leia, noting she was nearly done her milk, and he tilted it up a bit, helping her get the dregs. “They trying to take her away from you?”

“I don’t know,” Cas admitted. The was a loud ripping sound as she yanked a bundle of strings away from her jeans and scrunched up the bundle in her palm, her face colouring a bit more. “I don’t know, but they inspect everything, and ask me questions I often don’t know the answer to. I fear that nothing I’m doing is enough. I’m trying but…”

“Why didn’t you tell me and Sam about CPS?”

Cas’ face coloured quickly and she pushed hair from her face again, scrunching it momentarily at the crown of her head. She shut her eyes tightly and admitted in low growl, “I didn’t want you to see how hopeless I am. CPS could take her from me, and that would be another failure. I just...struggle. You and Sam live through your lives different than other humans. I realised I haven't learned the simplest things and…”

Opening her eyes, Cas blinked, and raised her gaze from her daughter. Her face, which had softened as she spoke, hardened again. “Never mind. I don’t want to burden you with my struggles. They’re not your concern. Give my daughter to me.”

Frustration and guilt competed for dominance in Dean’s chest, filling the space with a heaviness he wasn’t sure how to combat. Still, he eased Leia away--though she mewed in protest--and gave her back to Cas. For a few moments, they touched, and Dean inhaled, taking in both the soft smell of clean baby, and the cinnamon and floral scent of Cas. His stomach squeezed, reveling in the brief moments when they hands overlapped.

With Leia against her chest, Cas pulled away, shuffling from Dean, closer to the other end of the couch. She stared at the TV and murmured, “Thank you for the things. Good luck with the case. Tell Sam thank you, as well.”

Dean nodded and got to his feet, feeling hopeless as he moved towards the door.

How could Dean stay quiet? How could he just leave her, again? She’d already said no, but something about the way she’d said it left Dean feeling unconvinced.

Dean turned around and stood in front of Cas, who looked up at him in surprise, her eyes going wide, her brows raised.

He meant to ask her to come with him, to bring Leia, hop in the Impala, and leave all this stress behind. But instead, Dean opened his mouth and said, a bit brokenly, “Letting you leave is my biggest regret, Cas. I didn’t...Fuck, I didn’t mean to just sleep with you and kick you out. That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t the fucking plan. I was going to take you to get your own shit, and set up a bedroom for you, and--” Cas was looking at him sharply, her eye searching his face. She looked torn, partially angry, but still, she hadn’t interrupted him. Dean went on, feeling a rush of bravery. He threw his hands out at his side. “Listen, I gotta explain something to you--”

“Dean, stop.”

The bravery threatened to falter, but he pushed on, feeling his palms begin to sweat. “Sam was… He was dying after the trials, Cas, and I wanted to save him so I did something bad.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed.

Dean launched into the story about Ezekiel, and Gadreel, and how he teamed up with Crowley to release Sam from the angel’s clutches. He explained the trickery and explained that Sam had no idea until the last twenty-four hours. Cas watched, for once not interrupting, with her mouth parted a bit, her eyes watching Dean’s face intently. Her face as he explained Sam’s possession was dark and accusing, as it should be, Dean rationalized to himself, guilt settling in his stomach.

“That was wrong,” she murmured. Her head shook imperceptibly, and she repeated louder, “That was wrong, Dean. To do that to Sam…”

“It was fucked up.” Dean shrugged, feeling a bit heartbroken. He paced a bit, rubbing his hands on his hips. “Yeah. I know. He’s pissed as fuck, and I know I deserve all the shit from both of you. What I did for Sam, I would do again, though. If Ezekiel--er, Gadreel--really was working on fixing him from the inside, then yeah, I would do it again.”

Cas blinked, and he realised she was teary-eyed, though her voice was strong and steady when she said in revelation, “He instructed you to send me away.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. He rubbed his sweaty palms together. “Yeah, Cas. I’m sorry.”

“I see.”

Leia sighed the smallest sigh Dean’d ever heard, and her eyes closed slowly.

“But you? I regret sending you away,” Dean whispered, not wanting to wake her. “And I regret not chasing after you. Hell, I regret not telling you the truth right away. Maybe if you’d known why, you wouldn’t’ve gone. You would’ve gone to Jody’s like I planned, and you would’ve been nearby--kinda. I could’ve helped, you know, with getting you set up. And I coulda given you money, and gone to see you sometimes, though I’m sure Jody woulda kept you busy. She hunts too.”

Cas’ head tilted and Dean struggled not to laugh at the familiar gesture.

“Jody?” Cas asked, frowning.

“After I told you to go, I got on the phone with her. We set up a plan to for you to stay with her. It was just a five-hour drive. We’d decided you’d drive out there and she’d get you settled. IDs, money, clothes. She was sayin’ you could stay with her--”

“But I left,” Cas breathed. She was staring somewhere past him, looking like she wasn’t even there. She was probably somewhere in the past.

“Don’t blame you. I didn’t tell you shit. I...know how it looked.” Dean chuckled mirthlessly and scratched at his head. “Just had sex with you and kicked you out. I know how it looked, but Cas, I fucking swear--” Dean reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I fucking swear I never meant it like that. Everything I said was true.”

Cas looked up at him again, breaking herself from her reverie, and Dean stopped in front of her, running his hand down the side of her face. Surprisingly, she didn’t pull away.

“I, uh…” Dean stomach did a flip, and then a squeeze. He felt hot very suddenly, very aware of the words he was about to say. But it was now or never. After swallowing, he lowered himself down beside her again, close this time. With their legs brushing, and hips pressed close, Dean raised his other hand ot her face and gave her a little shake. He smiled tightly, and murmured, “I love you, Cas. Like, deep, profound bond kinda love. The kind that’s kept me up all night for a year, and the kind that made us always come back to each other, even when we were both acting like brats. I just...really love you. Like, in-love kinda love. Always have. Wings or no wings. Baby or no baby. This past year has been...a fuckin’ flurry of bullshit that I created. But just know I never thought you weren’t worthy, or not good enough of a human or woman or whatever. I just…” He dropped one hand to his lap as Cas’ frowned lips deepened, and her eyes closed off. “I guess you don’t wanna hear that, huh?”

Cas pulled away from his hands and lowered her gaze to the carpet. Her features were tight, her eyes defiant and dark under the shadow of waves framing her face. She pulled Leia close, hiding her face in her neck.

Well, that was it.

Dean got up, after pausing and laughing under his breath. He sniffed sharply and got up, blinking away the stinging in his eyes, and trying so hard to push down the voice that told him _this_ was why he didn’t do chick-flick moments.

“Guess I deserve that,” he said.

Without delay, Dean left, feeling like this would be the last time he ever saw her.

***

“So?” Sam asked, clipped, though he glanced up at Cas’ apartment building with longing.

Dean closed the door behind him and was silent for a few moments. His throat was blocked by a lump settled there by every emotion he just confessed and wasn’t returned. He cleared his throat loudly and shrugged, his hands clapping down between his thighs.

“She doesn’t want to hear any of it.”

“I meant the supplies,” Sam murmured. He was clearly still mad at Dean, but even with his brows furrowed and his lips carved into a frown, Sam still reached over and nudged Dean in the shoulder with one knuckle. When Dean looked up and over, feeling defeated, Sam shrugged. “You gave her the stuff. That’s all we can do for now and if she accepted them, then it’s a win.”

“Yeah, I just...kinda expected her to come with us in the end. I never thought she’d actually turn me down, especially after I explained why I had to do what I had to do…”

Sam shifted in his seat, glancing up at Cas’ apartment building once more before he turned the keys in ignition and began pulling the Impala out of it’s parking spot. “We took advantage of Cas too many times when she was an angel. I’m sure she’s fed up of being jerked around. Can’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with y...us.” Sam paused, clearing his throat, and seemed to decide to add, “And you called her a bitch, after everything you did to her. So honestly, I’m not surprised some food and diapers didn’t solve all your problems.”

A jab out of left field, but again, deserved. Dean crossed his arms over his heavy chest, and stared out the window, watching the river as they drove along side it, back to their motel. "You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I want to bring her back with us?”

“She won’t come back with us.”

Dean exhaled deeply through his mouth, feeling heat rush to his face. While he desperately tried to fight the burning along his lash line, and sniffled quietly so his brother wouldn’t look over, Dean replied tightly, “She hates me. I mean, why wouldn’t she? I threw her out, fuckin’ _pregnant_ back onto the streets.”

Sam didn’t have words of comfort for him.

Minutes later, as they pulled back into the parking lot, finally, Sam spoke up. “The kid...is it yours?”

Dean reached up to rub at his face, wiping one rogue tear that hung on his lashes. Raspily, he replied, “Wish it was, to be honest. But it’s not.” Sam looked over in surprise, but Dean caught his eye and shrugged. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know me, don’t know that everything I say is bullshit. You know I want an apple pie life...kinda. And you know how I feel about Cas. You ain’t fuckin’ stupid, Sam.”

“No,” Sam condeded. “I’m not.”

“Doesn’t matter, anyway,” Dean murmured. “She’s not coming back with us.”

“You sure we shouldn’t keep trying? I mean, we know that’s what’s best for her. She’s struggling out here and we owe her.”

The car pulled into their parking spot, and Sam turned off the car.

“I’m done making decisions for her,” Dean said faintly. “She deserves better. If she wants us to leave after the hunt, then we will.”

***

With their fire and silver blades in tow, Dean followed Sam to the cave he’d scoped out a day earlier. They trudged through the forest, their boots squelching over damp mud and fallen leaves, eventually carefully lowering themselves down a ravine, and entering a dark, hidden cave.

They expected, based on Cas’ feedback, that they would encounter another cave lined in fresh, newly woven gooey pods. They hoped that they’d find six very alive babies to rescue and return to their families.

Unfortunately, the cave had trace amounts of goo, and no children--alive or dead. What they did find was, arguably, much worse.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, swerving his flashlight around, his eyebrows furrowed together.

Sam growled and kicked a half-finished woven pod, accidentally skidding in the goo. “I don’t get it. I was convinced I’d gotten the right cave. I saw--”

Dean’s heart stopped. “Sammy.”

Sam’s flashlight turned on him, momentarily blinding him. But then Sam slid over to Dean, and swore under his breath too. Dean got up from his crouch and showed Sam the paper in his hand. It had been put on the floor, with a heart made of goo decorated around it.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

Dean felt like throwing up. The paper shook in his hand. “It’s a letter from CPS, warning Stevie Leitsac of a visit to her residence.” Dean turned over the paper and read from the scratchy lettering etched in pen on the back side. “ _I told you I had your scent. I told you I’d take yours_.”

Dean and Sam looked up at each other.

“Cas.”

***

Dean couldn’t decide what he more desperately wanted to do; check Cas’ apartment or check that Cas wasn’t in one of the caves lining the ravine. So, Sam made the executive decision to go check out Cas’ apartment, while Dean went on a war rampage, combing through the caves, hoping in each one he’d find Cas and Leia alive, and hoping the monster would be in there so he could drive his silver knife through their heart repeatedly.

After cave number three resulted in bupkis, Dean’s phone went off and he picked it up in desperation.

“Tell me you have good news,” Dean growled.

Sam sighed on the other line, his voice tinny over the phone. “Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Bad news.”

“Cas’ apartment is freakin’ wrecked. Dean, there’s blood everywhere.”

Dean nearly threw his phone through the trees, into the river. Instead, his grip tightened around the small cell and he whispered roughly, “What the fuck is the good news?”

“Well, I found Cas’ angel blade covered in blood, so I’m hoping the blood isn’t hers. But it was fresh. I’d only missed her by a few minutes. And there wasn’t any blood in Leia’s room. Just a bloody handprint on the crib and the door knob.”

His lungs suddenly lacked oxygen and Dean choked out, “Leia? Is she okay?”

“Missing.”

Dean paced in front of the next cave he was about to enter. “Fuck.”

“Yeah--” Dean heard Sam enter the Impala and slam the door behind him. “--but I’m hoping if we find one, we find the other. Alive. You find anything?”

Dean glared into the dark cave and shuddered at the night time autumn chill that penetrated his jacket. “A cave-load of shit-all. I’m gonna hit up another cave. I’ll send you my coordinates so you can meet up with m--”

_Thunk._

The phone slid from Dean’s hand, his fingers loosening from around it. His ears rung and his vision blurred. The back of his head grew instantly hot where something heavy, fast, and blunt hit him. He wasn’t sure if he was bleeding or just concussed, but he felt a hot trickle down the back of his neck. Regardless, the world went black as his legs gave out, and the last noise he made was a grunt as the floor came up to meet him.

***

He was definitely bleeding.

Dean groaned, woken up by both a dull throbbing in the back of his skull and the unpleasant, warm dribble of blood weaving through his hair and down his neck. As he raised his head, the hot wetness of his collar blood-soaked collar sliding against his skin made Dean shudder and feel nauseous.

His vision struggled to clear, the edges blurry. While his brain worked on getting that sorted, he was, however, immediately aware that his hands were tied together above him. They’d been tugged above his head so tightly that his arms felt sore in their sockets. The chafing around his wrists indicated that it was probably rope that tied him to…

He blinked, looking up, his vision clearing to see he was tied to a tall stone spike that stood tall from the floor of this cavern.

He shifted in his spot, moaning, and realised he was tied to the spike protruding from the ground by his waist as well.

“Dean!”

His clearing vision focused to the right, following the raspy voice that washed him in relief.

“Cas?”

“You’re bleeding,” Cas replied bluntly.

“So, are you.”

It was true. Half of Cas’ face was coated in dried blood that ran from a cut in her hairline, no doubt from the same blunt force trauma that Dean had received.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, her teeth bared. Her eyes, dark from the shadow of her furrowed brow, gazed around the cavern. “An altercation with the Zchitri resulted in this injury, but it doesn’t matter. I’m fine. You look to be much worse off.”

“Yeah,” Dean groaned, his head pulsing hotly, the pain transforming from dull to sharp rather quickly. “It got me good. It felt like I got hit with a freakin’ boulder.”

“It was a modestly sized rock,” Cas said flatly, her eyes still darting around the cave, the dull orange light from one singular lantern resting on a ledge, casting half her face in shadow. “I kept coming in and out of consciousness on the way back to the cave. I woke up very briefly when the monster dropped me in the dirt to go attack you.”

“Ah, so you saw me go down like a sack of potatoes.”

“I don’t know if that’s a trait shared by potato sacks, but yes, it was painful to watch. I would have warned you,” she added, with a flicker of guilt across her face, “but I had been gagged.”

While it was a dire situation, Dean couldn’t help but feel a pang of amusement at Cas’ tone. She sounded like being silenced by something being shoved in her mouth was an affront to everything she’d ever been, seen, or experienced. Honestly, if she had been an angel, it probably would be.

“Is Leia okay?” Dean asked, looking around.

On cue, behind them, on the other side of the spikes that they’d been attached to, small whimpers and sighs sounded.

“She’s behind us, Dean,” Cas said, her eyes widening. “Her and the other children. They’re all still alive. I saw Barbara put her there with the others as I was being tied up. They’re alive, Dean, but only because the pods aren’t done. I suspect kidnapping me took up some of her time, I--”

“Barbara?” Dean asked raspily, blinking and frowning. “The CPS worker?”

Cas nodded, her eyes taking on a darker quality. She looked ready to stab a bitch. “Yes. I, stupidly, told her I was alone when I spoke to her on the phone.”

“You said she was new, as of a few weeks?”

“Yes. My other caseworker abruptly moved…” Cas groaned. “Now I’m considering the possibility that she’s dead.”

“Sorry, Cas.” Dean tilted his head back, leaning it on the stone, though he yelped and pulled his head forward, wincing as his wound bled a bit more. He glanced over at her, watching her breathe harder as babies--six of them the new borns from the obstetrics ward--whimpered behind them. Dean’s heart squeezed too, and he joined Cas in looking around for a way out of their incarceration. “So the CPS worker’s been kidnapping kids?”

“I suppose,” Cas grunted as she yanked at her hands, slipping in the goo at her feet. “If any of the dead children ever had experiences with the service, their addresses would be on file. Occupation of the parents...all of that. It would make sense, for a child hunting creature, to use that as a resource.”

“That’s fucked up,” Dean muttered, figuring the twisting of such an important social resource, used for evil was essentially as fucked up and maniacal as it got for a lowly child-eating piece of shit.

Abruptly, Cas lost her cool and lifted herself off the ground, yanking at the ropes that held her hands over her head. Her socked feet slid across the rough stone ground, saved from puncturing only because of the goo that was dripped across the ground.

“Cas, chill,” Dean whispered, his eyes darting around. “You’ll draw attention to us. It doesn’t seem to be around right now and we should be using the time to get out! The last thing we need is seven shrieking babies giving us away.”

Cas relaxed, but into a defeated shrug. He saw her squeeze her eyes shut and whisper, “I need to get to Leia. If anything happens to her…”

Dean shifted, grunting as the effort made his head spin. Still, he scooted his butt a bit and reached out, nudging Cas with his foot. When she looked up at him, Dean smiled softly.

“Focus. Relax. Find your zen, dude. You’re Castiel; Angel of the lord. You’re not a panicker. Think.”

Cas snorted, gazing around grumpily, blowing out of her lips to be rid of a lock of hair that swung in her face. “I used to think much more clearly before I had my daughter. Now all I do is panic.”

“Well.” Dean nudged her again with his foot. “Relax. You got me. I ain’t gonna let anything bad happen to Leia.” He winced as the robe burned his wrists, and tried to scoot back into place so there was less strain on his wrists. “Let’s get the basics first; why are we here? I thought this monster only took kids?”

Even in the orange light, Cas flushed. She side-glanced at him and murmured, “She initially came only for Leia. I…’messed up’, as you often say. I fell asleep after you left--a mistake, I hadn’t meant to. I’d left the door open and Leia had fallen asleep just as you left, so she’d been in her room. As soon as I heard someone in the apartment, I attacked with my blade, but I...had been sleeping and was disoriented,” Cas admitted with shame. She sniffed sharply. “The Zchitri overpowered me and had me on my back with my own blade to my neck easily. Too easily.”

“Why’d she take you, Cas?” Dean asked, trying to get Cas on track, and not let her slid into self-blame.

Cas glanced at him again quickly, then down to her lap. “I said, ‘Dean Winchester will rip you apart, limb from limb. He’ll find my body and he’ll make your death slow’. She seemed to find that funny. Next thing I knew I was here too.” Despite the morose situation, Dean felt flattered, and his heart swelled in his chest. Cas knew he’d come back for her. She hadn’t lost hope in him completely. Cas went on, explaining, “When I initially woke, she had me feed the children she has here.”

When Dean blinked dumbly, Cas rolled her eyes. “They were starved, having been in captivity for over a day. She’d been giving them milk stolen from the hospital, but they’re too young to survive without sustenance for too long. With a newborn myself, I’m lactating and I could feed two at once.” Cas then scowled and added with a mumble, “Also, I think she intends to kill me in front of you as a punishment for what you did to her babies initially.”

“Yeeeah, that’s not gonna happen, Cas. Nothing’s gonna happen to you or Leia.”

Cas frowned. “I don’t need your help.”

“Says the human who’s hangin’ by her arms in a cavern with a pretty impressive head injury.”

Cas stared down at her lap, her expression closed off. Her head wound dripped down onto her ugly mustard moose sweater.

“How’d the Zchitri know to come after you?” Dean pondered out loud, his voice a grumble. He stared around the cave and gave his restraints a firm tug. “After Sam and I killed their initial round of mutant babies, it left us a message saying ‘I’ll get yours’ but I kinda figured it would go for Sam.”

The flame in the lantern off to the side flickered and wobbled, casting a rippled light over him and Cas. She looked up from her lap, but seemed unable to meet his eye. Dean frowned, watching a thick layer of glisten spread across the azure eyes, bright even under the leavy dark brown lashes and sunken eye bangs.

“Cas?”

She sniffed abruptly and whispered to the wall opposite her, “Leia. It probably followed your scent to her.”

Dean frowned, but his stomach knew something he didn’t because it seemed to drop a few inches and squeeze. “Why would it follow my scent to _her_?”

“Because,” Cas looked over, her chest rising and falling with a shudder, “she’s yours, Dean.”


	4. Home

“When you say ‘she’s yours’, you mean, ‘you save Leia, I’ll grab the others’?” Dean said weakly, knowing full well what she meant. When Cas shot him an unimpressed (yet watery) scowl, Dean flashed a smile that made him feel lightheaded, like he was moments from passing out. “Oh,” he murmured. “You mean she’s _mine_.”

“Yeah,” Cas breathed, exhaling heavily, her shoulders trembling a bit. Dean’s heart sunk as he saw her immediately regret saying anything. “She’s our daughter.”

“Why’d you tell me she wasn’t?” Dean asked, feeling like he was drowning in the overwhelming feelings in his body. His hands shook with nervousness, and the base of his neck and back gathered in a light sweat that had little to do with his head injury, but his heart was beating happily, and his stomach was shuddering, filled with excited nerves.

Cas looked away from him again, her mouth pursing and her eyes and nose getting red.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmured. “Come on, don’t be upset. What’s up?”

“I didn’t tell you because then you’d stay,” she admitted, her typically powerful, deep voice now quieter and weak. “You’d stay out of a sense of responsibility, and she’d be a burden. I’d be a burden. I never wished to be a burden to you and… I did not wish to chain you to a new human relationship with your daughter that you wanted no part of. Or, I’d tell you she was yours, and you’d leave anyway. I wasn’t sure which prospect hurt more, so I decided I would simply keep her to myself.” She looked up, her nostrils flaring, and her eyes looking defiant, despite how sad she fucking looked. Dean’s heart dropped. “And I was angry with you for everything you did. I wanted to punish you, in case there was a small chance you wanted her. Or me.”

Not for the first time since he arrived in Ann Arbor with Sam, Dean wondered what the hell he was supposed to say to that? His immediate response was to shrug it off or make a joke. But not taking his relationship with Cas seriously was what had landed him here in the first place. It was time to be honest, even if the rejection followed swiftly and painfully.

“Castiel...I would want nothing more but for you to come back to the bunker with me. You and Leia.” His hand twisted in the restraints, and his thumb jutted back at nothing. “This place? Ann Arbor? This is _not_ your home. This is a place. The bunker is your home.”

“That is _not_ true,” Cas replied quickly, shaking her head. She sniffed and breathed shakily, every tremor balancing on anger and hurt. “The bunker reminds me of nothing but pain. And...that home belongs to you and Sam. What would I do that but be in the way? Useless, with a screaming child and no powers…”

Dean reached over with his leg and nudged her. She looked up, and he hoped, with a soft smile, she understood that he meant every word he said. “The people who loved you with powers, will love you without them. And the people who loved you without a baby, will love you even more with a baby.”

He shrugged and added, “And they’ll love you infinitely more if the baby belongs to them, or whatever.”

He wasn’t a fucking poet, but he really hoped his words were getting through to her. To his surprise, it seemed they were. Her face was melting a bit, the anger pulling away and leaving longing in its wake. She stared at him through big eyes, her mouth pursed.

“I don’t know, Dean…”

“Do you still love me, Cas?” Dean murmured, searching her splotchy, shining face.

Cas nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“That’s rude,” Dean chuckled, feeling tickled despite the fucked up situation they were in.

“I wish I could not love you. That would be easier. That would make everything so much less...difficult,” Cas huffed, then shrugged, throwing him a side-glance. “I apologize, but...you deserve it.”

“I do,” Dean agreed, licking his lips. “But I promise, if you come with me, I’ll make sure you never go hungry, or feel lost, or alone. You’ll be warm, and not poor anymore, and you’d have a big bunker to raise Leia, and I’ll be a good dad, I fuckin’ swear. My dad was a piece of shit, so I basically have a manual of ‘what not to do’.”

“I can’t just leave my life here,” Cas replied, with a sudden second wind of anger. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I made my own life here, with my own place, and identity, and my own job. I built all of this--as undeserving or belittling as you find it--here on my own. You expect me to drop all of it to go live in your bunker and--”

Shifting in his restraints, Dean interrupted quickly. “Dude, no. Listen, you want to be a nanny and go by Stevie? Fuck, Cas, I’ll call you Stevie and drop you off at work, and like, drop our daughter off at daycare and stuff. If you want that life, I’ll do it. You don’t gotta hunt or research in the bunker with us. You can do whatever the fuck you want, this is your life, but fuck, just let me help!”

“You don’t mean _any_ of that,” Cas snapped, looking away, glaring at the flickering, dying lantern. She winced again as the babies behind her hiccuped and got louder in their sounds of distress.

“I love you,” Dean said stubbornly. When Cas’ gaze snapped back to his, wide, he repeated firmly, “I love you, you stubborn son of a bitch. You and Leia. I don’t need wings and a trenchcoat and glowy eyes, I just need you. I want to make up for what I did. And, fuck, I missed out on three months of Leia’s life, lemme spend some damn time with her--”

“Precious,” a voice hissed from beside them.

Dean and Cas turned their faces in sync to behold the sight of a 5’4, middle aged woman with sculpted bouffant hairstyle. She looked like every school principal that Dean’d ever been suspended by, except her hair was tilted off her head like a wig that had been peeled off, the part underneath revealing red scales. The skin under her eye was cut open, cloudy goo stringy in between the pieces of skin. All along her torso, down her skirt and one sleeve of her blazer were slices, flesh leaking goo and blood from them.

“You go a little crazy with the angel blade, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas squinted at the monster. “Perhaps not ‘crazy’ enough.”

“It’s going to be so fun to kill Stevie in front of you,” the monster hissed, walking in front of them, pacing in the space between their feet and the cave wall. “I’ve been teetering between gutting her then decorating this cave with her insides, or setting her on fire...much like you did with my children.”

The monster bared its teeth, and in the lantern light they looked sharp and pointed. The monster’s eyes flashing in the light like a cat. Or a snake, Dean thought, eyeing its scales peeking up from the lifted scalp.

“Her name is Cas. And if you touch her,” Dean said casually, like he was making light chatter over a poker game, “I’ll light you up like a torch. Got it, you gross ugly bitch?”

Barbara grinned, her pointed teeth slotted together in a smile that had Dean’s gag reflex tingling. Again, strings of goo stretched between her lips. In defiance she asked, “Like this?” before leaning down, snapping Cas' restraints around her waist with a sharp claw, and grabbing Cas by the neck, lifting her easily off the floor. Cas kicked out and gasped, but the Zchitri held her out at an arm’s length, laughing.

Dean struggled in his restraints when the monster reached back and pulled Cas’ angel blade from its place, tucked into her stiff skirt. The point of the silver blade shone in the light from the lantern as turned towards Cas slowly, stopping just under her chin, digging into the flesh there.

“I’m warning you!” Dean growled, growing desperate as Cas wheezed, her legs swinging through the air fruitlessly. Her hair was flapping at her back as she tilted her head back, struggling for air.

“You just walked into my cave,” the monster growled, eyeing Cas like she was a fascinating specimen of human, even though she was talking to Dean. “You and your brother poured gasoline on my babies, and left me to find their charred bodies. Small, growing innocents, partway through their transformation. My tiny butterflies...nothing but piles of ash.”

“Inn...cents…” Cas growled through her teeth, between gurgles and gasps. Her eyes were rolling back.

The Zchitri smirked and let her go. Cas dropped to the ground hard, crying out as her landing put abrupt stress on her arms, yanking at them and jerking her back against the side of the giant spike. She moaned and pulled her legs up, tucking them under her to alleviate the pain in her shoulders.

“They were innocents before you ab--” Cas coughed, inhaling in a trembling wheeze-- “abducted them. They had families, homes.”

“Broken families,” Barbara hissed, crouching down before Cas and running a hand down her face, dried blood flaking off onto her gooey fingers. “Parents that hit them, neglected them, who didn’t want them, or failed to care for them. Parents, like you, who had no business having children.”

Cas, even struggling for air, looked fired up, her eyes blazing to life. “You do...n’t know what you’re t-talking about. The Harvey’s...they never harmed their children. Their baby, Cheryl, didn’t deserve--”

“A child caught in the crossfire,” Barbara murmured, stroking the dimple in Cas’ chin with her thumb. “Perhaps the Harveys should have cared enough to look into the background of their nannies, isn’t that right, _Cas_? Not only were you lying about your identity and barely qualified, but the nanny before you had a past undeserving of being around children. She had her own taken away. Jackie Dearest was a fan of the drink, and more...sensory injectables. She forgot to feed her own children for an entire week, left them with their seven year old cousin to care for them.”

Barbara released Cas face, pushing it to the side roughly, giving her cheek a firm slap before she got to her feet. Cas winced, her features twisted in anger, her upper lip twitching.

“So, you punished their infant instead of them?” Cas growled, turning her head slowly to fix the creature with a look of pure poison.

Barbara disappeared, walking behind them. Dean and Cas exchanged worried looks. They heard one of the babies squeal, and Barbara hush them softly. “Punish? Dear Cas, these children are being given a gift. Centuries of life, in better bodies than the ones they’d been given. They’re being given a chance to evolve. I’m giving them powers that’ll enable them to be stronger, and faster, and of an elevated intellectual status than they currently are.”

Barbara appeared in front of them again, two babies in her arms. They slept soundly, no doubt recuperating after not eating sufficiently for a day, then getting their fill all in one go. Gently, Barbara lowered them to the ground, resting them on the floor neatly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean snarled, kicking out at the creature as its short and stubby bland heels clicked past them, though out of reach. Still, it made him feel better to kick.

“Preparing the children for their transplant,” Barbara explained contently as she disappeared again. A few moments later, as Dean and Cas listened on bated breath to the sounds of babies waking up from a nap, hiccuping and whimpering in protest, Barbara returned with two more. As she walked by Dean and Cas, she asked, “Shall I kill the bitch first or allow you both to witness your daughter's incubation?”

Dean bared his teeth, his eyes narrowing. “Better question: shall I kill you first or allow you to watch me turn your alien pods into smores, you scaly freak?”

Barbara’s lips twitched, her half-mutilated eyes rolled. She disappeared to grab another two babies.

Cas reached over with one leg and kicked Dean hard in the ankle. He hissed and mouthed a few choice curse words at her. In response, Cas whispered, “Don’t goad her! She has our daughter, you idiot.”

 _Our daughter_. Well, that was more feelings than Dean had realised he’d have about that phrase. He had a daughter with Castiel, with the angel of the Lord he’d always pined after. They had a kid.

Immediately, Dean swallowed any further quips he had for the creature and his focus became razor sharp. Shifting around, watching the monster carefully as it brought over the last of the stolen hospital babies, he took inventory of the weapons he was supposed to have on him. ‘Supposed to’ being the operative ideas, because the blade tucked in his boot, the knife in his jacket, and his gun were all missing. Now that he wasn’t having a heart to heart with Cas, he also realised the duffle bag with his gasoline and lighter, and silver blades were all tucked in corner, about fifteen feet away, shoved near the mouth of the cave. It was too far away. He had no idea how he was going to escape the restraints...

Before he could McGuiver a way to escape, Barbara re-appeared with the last baby; Leia.

Cas inhaled sharply, and Dean’s heart started pounding a mile a minute. Barbara was ducking down to place Leia beside the others. Cas’ angel blade flashed from where it was tucked into Barbara’s skirt.

“Perhaps baby Leia shall be the first of these lovelies to become one of my very own children…” Barbara pondered.

Before Dean could slip up by calling the creature an abomination and threaten it with more empty threats, Cas gasped out, “Let me hold her! Please.”

Barbara glanced over her shoulder, raising a thick brow at her. “Hold her? Whatever for?”

Cas’ eyes were wide and she took on a desperate expression that Dean hadn’t ever seen on her face. It was despair, panic, and pain. Her eyes were blue and bright even in the dark orange flicker of the flames that threw shadows rippling over her face.

Cas pleaded roughly, “Let me just hold her one last time. L-Let me feed her, just...one last time. You understand.” Cas nodded towards Barbara and added softly, “From one mother to another, I _know_ you understand. Do me that final request?”

For a heartbreaking moment, it looked like Barbara was going to turn Cas down because she turned away. Cas whimpered brokenly--another sound seldom heard from her--but then Barbara picked Leia up again and turned towards Cas. Towering over them, she raised a decaying, split brow and hissed, “You may feed her once more. You did birth her, after all. This is the one request I’ll grant you. While you’d no doubt end up to be a horrible mother, you did provide her basic needs. This is your one reward for doing at least that.”

“Thank you,” Cas whispered, blinking quickly. “Thank you.”

Dean looked away, unable to witness Cas beg for anything. Still, he felt just as hopeless as Cas, not knowing how he’d free them in time to stop Barbara from either killing Leia or killing Cas. He understood Cas' desperation and knew they’d grieve horrendously if Leia was taken away. Dean was already feeling the hollow ache and nothing had happened yet; he couldn’t imagine what Cas was going through.

The angel blade was taken from behind her, and Barbara leaned forward to cut the ropes around Cas’ hands. Cas groaned loudly and immediately reached up to rub at her shoulders and hands as the ropes uncoiled from around her wrists. She only froze when the tip of the angel blade tapped the bottom of her chin and forced her to look up to avoid being sliced. Cas eyed the blade through narrowed eyes and Barb smirked.

“One singular moment of funny business and I will slit your throat. I don’t care if your baby gets showered in your blood and your good for nothing sperm donor watches you bleed out. I will end you if you try anything fast. Understood?”

Cas nodded slowly, as much as the blade under her chin would allow. “Yes.”

The blade retreated and Barbara allowed Cas to reach out and take tiny Leia from where she slept against the grey tweed blazer worn by the Zchitri’s meatsuit. Leia’s big blue eyes opened slowly, and she fussed, her tiny fists rubbing at her face clumsily as Cas pulled her close.

Dean watched Cas murmur softly to Leia and rock her slightly. To his surprise, she pulled up her sweater, revealing a breast, and offered the nipple to Leia, who latched on immediately. For some reason, Dean had thought Cas was bluffing. He figured she had a trick up her sleeve, but all she really wanted to do was be close to her daughter. A lump formed in his throat as she sang softly to their daughter, rubbing her small head of hair as Leia drank contently. Dean immediately recognized the song.

“Stevie Nicks,” Dean murmured. “Landslide?”

Cas glanced up at him, then nodded, pulling her gaze back down to her tiny daughter.

“Stevie,” he repeated with a small laugh to his voice. “That’s where you got your name?”

“I took a bus from Lebanon to Omaha,” Cas murmured, rocking gently from side to side, the pad of her pointer finger tracing her daughters face. “The bus driver repeated that song about twelve times the entire way through Kansas. At the time, I found it grating. I obviously wasn’t in a good place, but later, when I discovered I was pregnant, and CPS had been called to the precinct to tell me about my options, the song was playing in the lobby. I realised, as I listened to the words, that I related.”

She looked up and met Dean’s gaze. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Remind me to put it on a mixtape for you,” Dean whispered.

Barbara was looking between them, her lips pursing. She seemed unimpressed but assured that Cas wasn’t going to pull ‘anything fast’ on her. The creature raised a brow, after eavesdropping, and sneered, “What reason would you require an alias a nanny?”

“Because,” Cas said, turning her face towards Barbara slowly and a smile crept onto her lips that meant only one thing; danger. “We’re hunters.”

It happened so quickly, even Dean took a second to catch up. The hand Cas wasn’t using to hold Leia close shot out and grabbed the fist Barbara was using to wrap around the handle of her blade. Cas snarled as she yanked Barbara towards her and swung out her leg, clearing the Zchitri’s legs right out from under her. The creature shrieked and fell onto her side--just in range to be kicked in the face.

Dean took the opportunity immediately, pounding the bottom of his foot down into Barbara’s stupid face. While Barbara arched her back and roared, Cas wrenched at her wrist, twisting it obscenely.

The blade fell from the monster’s grip, and again, in classic Cas style, she moved stupid-quick, twirling the blade in her hand so that it was angled perfectly. Cas swung her blade back towards the monster, she cut her other eye as Barbara lunged back at her.

Blinded, Barbara reached up for her face, screeching so loudly Dean thought his ears were bleeding. To add insult to injury, the six babies all woke and began shrieking.

Cas, apparently immune to babies crying, launched herself to her feet--still holding Leia against her chest with one arm--and swung her blade around, easily cutting through Dean’s restraints. Once up for his wrists and swept down through his waist restraints.

“MOVE!” she roared to Dean, before turning on the monster, who was scrambling to its feet, one hand grasping at its bleeding eyes, the other curled out towards Cas like a claw, its arm flailing madly.

“YOU BITCH!” Barbara bellowed.

Dean ducked behind her and yanked her back just in time to stop Cas from getting her own eyes clawed out. With the creature held to his chest, Cas had an opening.

“Don’t,” Cas spat, “call me a bitch!”

Barbara the Zchitri released an ear-splitting scream as Cas drove the blade through her heart with the rage that could only be summoned by an affronted mother--or a Millenia year old celestial warrior. They were inches away from each other’s face, Cas’ twisted in hatred. With a grunt, Cas pulled the blade down. Dean groaned with disgust as he heard the monster’s insides slosh around and then land on the ground with a splat.

The body in his arms went limp and when he let it go, fell to the side, its head cracking against stone. Dean grimace, while Cas literally spat on the corpse, her nose flaring, her eyes crackling with fire.

“Bitch,” Cas growled.

Dean doubled over, pressing his palms above his knees. He squinted up at Cas as he panted. “So, uh, the whole begging to hold her was a rouse?”

Cas shrugged as she pulled down her shirt and adjusted a babbling baby on her shoulder, patting at her back. “Partially,” she said tightly, still eyeing Barb’s body distastefully. “I needed my hands free to attempt to retrieve my blade… but I also knew Leia would be hungry. She’s hungry all the time.”

Dean grinned. “Sounds like a Winchester to me.”

***

Sam hadn’t received Dean’s coordinates, but he _had_ traced the call when he’d heard Dean get knocked out on the other end of the line.

Lucky for all of them, Dean had apparently only been knocked out fifteen feet from the cavern entrance. As Dean and Cas exited the cave--struggling to carry three babies each (and one cosy Leia, who was dozing happily on Dean’s back in a McGuivered baby wrap made out of Barb’s tattered blouse), Sam had just arrived.

“I missed the fun?” Sam asked nervously, his eyes wide as he stared at all the babies and the two exhausted looking adults covered in blood.

“Take at least two babies from me, for the love of God,” Dean groaned at his brother. “I have a head injury and I kinda feel like I’m gonna pass out with all this extra weight.”

“They’re hardly six pounds each.” Cas had scowled over at Dean but nodded at Sam. “Hospital. Now. These infants had been essentially starved over the last day or so, and Dean does, indeed, have a head injury. I witnessed a mediocre boulder make contact with his head rather viciously.”

“Though you said it was a modestly sized rock?” Dean muttered grumpily, side-eyeing her.

“Are you really going to argue with me about geology?” Cas asked, raising one brow. “After I saved you from eventually being gutted by Zchitri?”

Dean muttered under his breath, but Cas got the opportunity to ignore him as Sam reached out to her and pulled her into his arms, giving her a bear hug, several babies be damned.

“Where’s my hug?” Dean mocked, walking past Sam, back towards where he remembered the car parked. When he looked back, Cas was smiling in Sam’s arms, her eyes closed as she rested her cheek against Sam’s chest. Sam looked over his shoulder and yelled, “You get a hug when you disappear for a year and I actually miss your ugly mug. Cas is bleeding and carrying like a million babies, and she apparently saved your ass. Keep walkin’.”

They made it to the car and to the hospital in fifteen minutes, tops. First, they dropped the babies off at the fire station just half a mile up the street, to create some distance. They knew they’d be taken to the hospital within minutes.

The trio, and Leia, headed to the hospital immediately afterwards, for both Cas and Dean to be checked out. While Cas got some stitches and some painkillers, Dean had a concussion and was being admitted for overnight monitoring.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered from his bed, shifting his legs under the covers. “I hate hospitals. I could heal perfectly well in the comfort of our bunker, y’know.”

Sam scrolled through his tablet idly as it rested on his propped up legs. Half-chewing a granola bar, Sam muttered, “If you want, I could have a look around the hospital. There might be a rogue angel or two wandering around that I could convince to hop your bones and heal you faster.”

Dean stopped fidgeting and went still in his bed, slouching into the fluffy pillows behind his back. He didn’t say a word, he just turned his gaze up to the telenovela playing silently on the hospital room TV. His eyes saw the subtitles pop up, but he was too busy sitting in shame and self-pity to read them.

“Sorry,” Sam added, scowling at himself as he pushed down the wrapper of his snack. His green eyes flickered up. His lips barely moving, he admitted, “I couldn’t help myself.”

Dean shrugged like he didn’t care, and he said gruffly, “Don’t apologize. Shots well aimed and well deserved, I guess.”

The granola bar must’ve suddenly looked unappetizing because Sam sighed and set it aside on a tray beside Dean’s bed. He tapped at his tablet for a few minutes, and Dean tried not to cry or make a scene because firstly, he detested crying in front of Sam, and secondly, it wasn’t his place to feel hurt. Sam had been the once betrayed, Sam--

“I’m forgiving you, but I’m still mad,” Sam said suddenly, breaking Dean’s internal whirlpool of self-hatred. When Dean looked up, Sam was staring at him, and he shrugged his broad, plaid-wearing shoulders. “You’re an idiot, and what you did was really, really wrong. But I get why you did it.”

“You’d do it for me,” Dean supplied weakly.

Sam lowered his gaze. “Dunno if I would. If it seemed like your time… if it made sense? I might’ve let you go. If I, uh, dunno, knew you were in a better place? With mom? Dad? I might’ve let you go.”

Dean’s heart nearly came to a stop and he did feel those wretched tears blur his vision for a second. “You were in Heaven?”

Surprisingly, Sam snorted. “No, dude. I mean, I don’t think so. But I’m just saying; if I knew you’d be better off, I might’ve left you.”

“You were brain dead--”

A floppy hand waved in his direction shut Dean’s desperate rationalizing from taking its full, final form. Sam cut him off with flippant gesture. “I know the story. Just...promise me you won’t do anything stupid like that again, okay? No doing invasive stuff like that without my consent. No--fuck--doing ridiculous stuff to keep each other alive. We gotta learn to just let things happen. We gotta stop meddling in what’s meant to be. We gotta work on our codependency.”

“I promise,” Dean lied.

Sam’s hair slipped from behind his ear, slipping against his chin. “I believe you,” he also lied. Then, glancing out into the hallway, where Cas was on the phone with the Harveys, pacing back and forth past the door, Sam gestured with his chin.

“What’re you gonna do about Cas? Did she really admit that Leia is your kid?”

Dean snorted, still not believing this was his life. He followed Sam’s gaze and felt a dull, pulsing pain in his stomach. He and Cas hadn’t ended their talk in the cave on a good note, and he _had_ originally been planning on leaving Ann Arbor after the hunt to respect Cas’ wishes. But now that he knew that Leia was his…

What the hell was he supposed to do now? How could he leave them both behind? What kind of dad would he be if he just high-tailed it out of town and only send cards on birthdays?

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, his eyes stinging suspiciously still, the burn having not left his lashline even after his talk with Sam. “I dunno what to do, Sam. I really don’t. She doesn’t want to come with us, and she doesn’t want me to stay.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, his lips turning down in one corner, and his heavy brow knitting together. “Like, I know she said that, but you know Cas is stubborn and you know she doesn’t like to ask for help, or seem like a burden to anyone.”

 _You’d stay out of a sense of responsibility, and she’d be a burden. I’d be a burden. I never wished to be a burden to you…_ That’s what Cas had said to him, after all. Sam definitely had a point.

“What would I even say to get her to come with us or...or…”

Sam’s eyebrows jumped up on his forehead and he smiled at him for the first time since Dean confessed his secret about Gadreel. “Or stay here with her?”

Dean hesitated, glancing from the door over to Sam. “Could I even do that? Could I live in freakin’ Ann Arbor? What about you? The bunker?”

Sam got to his feet and patted Dean on the leg. “We literally just finished promising we were going to try not to be as codependent.”

“What would I even do here?” Dean pondered, his face twisted up like he’d just sucked on a lemon.

With a shrug, Sam said quickly, “Dunno. Incoming.”

Cas walked into the room moments later, moving slowly as she bounced a sleeping Leia in her arms, gently rubbing at the soft tufts of dark hair atop her daughter’s head.

“I’m gonna grab coffee,” Sam whispered so quietly he was almost inaudible, pointing outside.

At a normal volume, Cas said, “You don’t need to whisper, Sam. She sleeps like the dead.”

“Hey! You told me she was a light sleeper,” Dean protested. “That first night I went to your place!”

Cas rolled her eyes. She stood in place and swayed on the spot, patting gently at her baby’s back. “You also thought I had a roommate at the time. I was playing along, and I didn’t want to risk Leia would wake--as she does several times in a night. I was trying to hide her from you at that point.”

Dean and Cas shared a stare that brought them right back to the good old days, when it was their main method of meaningful interaction.

Sam cleared his throat.

“I’m, uh, gonna grab us coffees. Cas, you want one?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I have to be going soon. I have to drop Leia off at her babysitter and--”

“The nanny has a babysitter?” Dean laughed, though he immediately let his grin blink away when Cas shot him a glare.

“Yes,” Cas said grumpily. “There’s an elderly italian woman across the hall who watches her for me while I’m at work. In exchange, I write her mail and clean her apartment on weekends.”

Damn. Cas really did have a life of her own here. “Gotcha, Cas. Makes sense.”

Sam patted Cas on the shoulder as he walked by her. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, Cas.”

“I won’t,” Cas replied with a sigh. “Mainly because I was hoping you’d give me a ride home. The bus doesn’t run this late and I’d love a shower before work.”

“Of course.”

When Sam disappeared, Cas and Dean looked at each other again. The silence was loud between them, and the air heavy suddenly. There was a lot between them now--a child, mainly. But feelings resurfaced after facing near-death and once again fighting side-by-side against evil. Love hovered in the space between them, acknowledged in the privacy of a cave under the threat of death, but now filling the room around them.

What would they do with this?

“I hope you have a quick recovery,” Castiel said quietly. She eyed his body under the sheets, then dragged her eyes back up towards his face. “I wish I could heal you, but obviously--” she gestured up at her own head-- “those days are over.”

‘Thanks, Cas’ or ‘it’s not a problem, Cas’ would have been acceptable replies, but Dean’s head hurt, and his heart ached, especially because she had the tone in her voice of someone who was leaving, who was retreating. So instead, he said, “Please come back with me to the bunker.”

Cas bowed her head, her lips brushing Leia’s soft hair. Her eyes squeezed shut and she murmured against her baby, “Don’t do this, Dean.”

“You don’t gotta change, Cas.” His fists bunched the waffle-textured light blue hospital bedding on either side of his thighs. “You can be Stevie in Lebanon too. We can get you some proper fake ID so you can actually go to school and like, learn more shit about taking care of kids. Or you could get some other job--if you wanted, of course. Y’know, if that’s what you really wanted. And we could get Leia some legit new papers too so she could go to school nearby. And-And…” Dean struggled to form complete thoughts, his head pounding, but he pushed through anyway because it was now or never. He blinked hard to clear the haze of pain from his vision, and perhaps the blur of desperate tears. “Or if you really can’t stand me, we can gather money from friends and get you a place. You can have your own space, but like, buy all your own stuff and make it all nice and shit, for you and Leia. And I could come visit all the time, and maybe take Leia.”

“Like divorced parents?” Cas scowled.

“I mean, obviously I’d rather you forgave me and let me make it all up to you, and--”

Cas squeezed her eyes shut again, groaning. “Dean…”

“I’m just saying, there’s no pressure to be around me if I still make you sick. I-I know I deserve it; the cold shoulder, the sass, the grump. I am a class A piece of shit, and I deserve it. But _you?_ You and Leia deserve to be happy and you don’t deserve to worry about anything.”

Cas raised her free hand to her face, partially obscuring it. She appeared to be kneading away a headache, her fingers pushing into her forehead, rubbing up into her hairline. “I wouldn’t want to go to Lebanon just to live somewhere else--”

Hope tugged on Dean’s heartstrings and he sat up taller in the bed. With a new found motivation, he carried on, “Then you can live in the bunker with Sam and I. And I’ll try to do everything I possibly can to make it up to you. I'll call you while you’re at work to just talk or whatever. I'll put food in the fridge, and get Leia a real stroller-thing so you don’t have to carry her around anymore. Cas, I will drive you to work every morning and pick you up every night.”

“That is all very nice,” Cas said, dropping her hand to her side, the fingers rubbing against her palms. “But--”

“Or,” Dean said, his teeth clinking together. Though it made him feel sick, he said, “I'll do whatever it takes, even...even if it means I gotta stay here and Sam goes back to Lebanon.”

“...Dean.” Cas’ eyes went wide, and she shifted her weight on her feet, looking nervous. “That wouldn’t make me feel better.”

Dean tugged the blankets off his legs and shifted towards the edge. Cas growled and stepped forward, pushing at his knee. “Get back in bed, Dean. You have a head injury, you could fall.”

But all Dean could focus on was her proximity, close enough to touch now. He reached out and touched her face, his thumb brushing her chin. The touch was soft, and not forceful, but for some reason it glued Cas in place as if it had been. She stared at him and Dean became aware that their faces were only a foot away from each other.

“I let you go once, and I didn't try hard enough to get you back,” Dean confessed, wincing, feeling pained. “And I will spend forever trying to make up for it. I love you, and I love Leia. If you don't want me for you, then at least let her have me. I'm her dad, I want to be around. I already missed her first three months, I don't wanna miss anything else. I’ll...stay here in Ann Arbor if I have to.”

“I don’t want you to stay in Ann Arbor,” Cas whispered, her wide eyes jumping from one of his eyes to the other, searching them like there would be answers to their complex issue there in the space between them.

“All the stuff I said? I can do all of that...but I just would rather you came with us to the bunker,” Dean laughed, feeling a bit dizzy with his toes barely touching the floor. “And let me take you to Walmart to buy you a hair brush and some clothes. And, well, if there was a small shot--the tiniest shot that you’d be willing to talk to me and come with, to….you know, try again. Try like we almost did the first night you were back… We could be together.”

The hitched breath Cas took inspired Dean with the bravery to push forth.

“I have room in my bed for you,” Dean breathed with conviction. His hand slid up, palm pressed to the side of her warm cheek. “My bed and my library and my kitchen and my every-fucking-room-in-the-bunker for you. And if we shuffle some stuff around, we could fit a crib in there, right by our bed. And when Leia is is big enough, we can give her a room. Any room she wanted in that bunker. Please, Cas. Come with me. We're leaving tomorrow, right when I get out of here. Motel checks out at 12 and we’ll be on the road at 1. You could be at the bunker by tomorrow night."

Cas smiled.

Then, she raised her hand to slot over Dean’s, and his heart beat against his chest, filling him with hope.

“No,” Cas said, pulling his hand away from her face and placing it in his lap. As Dean’s face fell, she stepped away and adjusted Leia in her arms. “You should rest, Dean. The nurses ordered that you try to get some sleep.”

“Sure,” Dean said, when he really wanted to ask ‘why’. He hardly registered that he had pulled his own legs back into the bed, but after he had, he felt exhausted like they’d turned to lead.

His heart ached so much it hurt, and his chest felt heavy. As a matter of fact, all of him felt heavy. Dean shut his eyes and turned onto his side, away from Cas.

Again, she left him, her converse clapping down onto the smooth floor. As they faded away, he found only a little comfort in the fact that she chose to leave this time with all the information, with nothing unsaid. She’d made the educated decision this time.

The small comfort was washed away quickly, as the dark tide of rejection pulled away any good feelings. After all, even with his soul beared out to her, she’d made the decision on her own. She’d rather suffer here, than spend one second more with Dean in the bunker.

***

The hospital released him the following morning, but after paperwork and filing prescription drugs, and Sam ensuring Dean got his greasy lunch to wash down the horrible hospital food, it was check out at the motel. While Sam went in to check out, Dean sat in the Impala, trying not to vomit. Not because of the sketchy fries, but because Cas had said no. Once again, he was leaving her. It felt horrendous and he wished he knew what he could’ve said additionally or better than what he’d come up with to make her stay. To put the cherry on top of the cake, now he was leaving Leia too.

Dean stared at Cas’ phone number in his phone. She’d unblocked it at the hospital, saying he could call to come visit Leia when they were ‘in the geographical area’. And while he didn’t want to abuse his communication privileges by calling her for a non-Leia issue, and he didn’t want to call her while she was busy working, this was _Cas._ Castiel. Angel of the Lord. Baby in a trenchcoat. Size-of-the-Chrysler-building, three heads, glowy-warrior of God Cas. His best friend, the angel in his dreams, the mother of his child, and the love of his life. How could he leave her?

The phone was already ringing when he brought it up to his ear.

“Hello Dean--” was all she got to say.

Dean inhaled deeply and began; “Listen, I know you’re tired of hearing my sorry-excuse of a voice, but you gotta hear me out. I...I’m gonna stay.” A part of him was screaming to himself to shut up, but the other part of him that lived in his chest and beat in between his ribs was singing. “I'm not gonna let you go again. So I’m’a plant my ass here even if I have to buy an apartment across the hall. I’m not going to leave without you. I don’t care if Sam leaves or if Lucifer himself tries to take me away. I’m not letting you go again."

“Dean--”

The phone made a cracking noise as Dean squeezed it in his shaking hand.

“I can’t let you go. I can’t walk away from you again. I’m in love with you. If it means I gotta live like a muggle, and get a job, and drive you to work every day, and--”

“DEAN.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ll leave Sam. H-He’ll understand. Hell, I think he just wants us to be happy--together and as people. I chose him over you last year, and it was miserable for me, thinking of what I did to you. This time I choose you, I--HEY!”

The phone was yanked from his ear and pulled out the window by a agile, quick hand. Dean reached after it, making grabby hands after his shitty flip phone, but he almost as fast, relaxed. His eyes went wide.

“Cas?”

Cas was leaned over beside his car, staring into the car window, wincing against the sun that shone in her eyes. Still, she smiled--crooked, gummy. Happy.

“I appreciate you offering to stay,” Cas said, her rough voice amused. “I appreciate your offer to move in across the hall--although I suspect old lady Dona Russo would not appreciate intrusion. She has neither all her bearings, nor the space in her apartment for you. Her cats have claimed every spare bedroom she has.”

Dean turned in his seat, feeling utter confusion. From Cas’ bent over position, he saw Leia snoozing on her back, tied tightly to her with a large blanket-sash thing that Dean didn’t know the name of. Either way, she looked cozy, dozing against Cas’ back, a binky bobbing around in her mouth as she sucked on it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, his eyes wide like saucers. He stared at her like she as crazy. “I thought you were at work.”

“I considered it,” Cas nodded. Her hair, long and wild, swaying over her shoulders, flapping a bit in the light warm breeze. She pulled some out of her face and tucked a few strands behind one ear. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I showered, and I find I do my clearest thinking in the shower. Oddly enough.”

Dean didn’t dare let himself hope. Not again. He watched her face, waiting for the blow to come.

Cas’ blue eyes glittered as she smiled slowly at him again. “I don’t have many things, so they all fit into the duffle I stole from you last year--I am sorry about that, by the way.” She winced visibly, then added, “Leia has most of the belongings, but they only take up one garbage bag.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, his brows high on his forehead.

To Dean’s surprise, Sam emerged from the motel office and ducked down beside Cas, his face also framed by the open car window. Sam smirked at Dean, but glanced at Cas. “Should we install the car seat now or later? I managed to get a decent one on sale this morning.”

Pointing between them, Dean choked out, “You knew she was coming with?!”

“Now,” Cas said to Sam after turning her face him, and ignoring Dean. Then, turning back to Dean, she explained, “Leia needs to be in a car seat, legally, of course. And also otherwise she cries for an obscene amount of t--”

“Car seat? Did...you two plan this? Am I being punked?” Dean asked, looking between Cas and Sam, who’d stood up and was walking around the car, disappearing to open the trunk.

“I...don’t understand that reference,” Cas admitted, but then she blinked and smiled at Dean again, raising her hand above her eyes to block the glare of the sun. “I’ve decided to come with you. I’ve decided I would like to ‘try again’, as you said.”

With a creepy little smile--Dean made a mental reminder to smack Sam later, lovingly--Sam admitted, “She and I talked this morning. We both decided together you’re a real asshole most of the time.”

The corner of Cas’ lip twitched and a lock of hair blew into her face. As she reached up to tuck it behind her ear, she added, “And we have decided to forgive you. All of us have much work to do, things we’re better doing together. Sam helped me decide I had several reasons to return to the bunker.”

Sam patted the top of the Impala with his hand and snorted. While he stood up straight and walked around to the back of the car, Dean and Cas were left staring at each other, Dean hesitant and Cas hopeful. While he dared not hope himself--he still felt like he was being punked--Dean cleared his throat and asked Cas, “Really? You mean it?”

She nodded. “Yes. I mean it… Also I realised that CPS would come visit me soon when Barbara didn’t check in with them, and there’s blood all over my apartment.”

Dean’s heart sank. They’d done it again; rolled into town and ruined someone’s life. While it wasn’t completely his or Sam’s fault, if Dean had been better, smarter… If he’d made the connection to CPS before Cas was kidnapped, he might’ve been able to keep Cas out of it. Maybe they could’ve caught the monster sooner, and spared Cas a forced retreat from her new life. Now she was coming with them because obviously, she had no choice.

“Do not feel guilty, Dean,” Cas murmured, tilting her head. “Normalcy was never meant for me. I tried to do what Metatron told me to do, and I failed. Not because I’m a bad human, but because I’m an angel, wings or not, I realised. And most importantly, I’m a mother.” She glanced back at Leia, a fond look in her eye. She turned the fond look back on Dean, sending the butterflies in his stomach into an exciting kind of panic. “I owe Leia the best life I can. I brought her into this world, and it’s become my job to ensure she survives and prospers. She won’t be able to do that if I hold onto resentment and anger. I must lead by example. And,” Cas flushed, “both you and her deserve to know each other. I know many single mothers who raise outstanding children, but since you’re willing and wanting, and...”

“I would really like that,” Dean admitted quietly, looking helplessly at his daughter over Cas’ shoulder. Still deep in sleep, Leia rubbed her face into Cas’ shirt, her binky still bobbing steadily. Dean rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide the smile that was threatening to unfurl there. To save face, so he wouldn't look like a dorky love-sick boy, he cleared his throat and asked, accompanied a raised brow, “You were saying there’s work to do?”

“I want to make things right with the angels,” Cas went on, her face taking on a very serious quality. Dean missed that face; that pinched, constipated face she made whenever she was thinking about Heaven. She glanced up at him, wincing. “I am the reason they walk the earth without purpose. I need to bring them back to Heaven and I can’t do that as a nanny. I...realised after the fight with the Zchitri that in battle or strategizing is where I belong. I’ll prove I’m a good human in other ways...”

“Other ways than paying bills?” Dean teased.

Cas huffed, but her lips twitched up in the corner. “Yes. In more ways than just paying bills. I intend on raising Leia to be an excellent human, and helping the angels _as a human_ , as you and Sam do. But,” she murmured, “I need some teachers first. I need someone to teach me how to be a good hunter as a human.”

“We’d love to teach you, Cas.”

“And,” Cas stared into Dean’s eyes intensely, searching them for something, “I need to learn forgiveness. As I told you, it was easy as an angel. As a human, forgiveness is challenging, but I wish to learn how to do it. Can I start by forgiving you, Dean?”

It was everything he wanted. Dean merely nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from saying anything.

Not that it mattered a moment later, because Cas gripped the bottom of the window frame and leaned right into the car. With a small, helpless noise in his throat, Dean’s eyes slid closed as she breached his personal space, and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips.

The trunk slammed shut, and Sam laughed with a huff, audibly stopping somewhere beside Cas, his footsteps halting their crunching over the gravel. But Dean didn’t have time to think about PDA in front of Sam. When Cas pulled away from the chaste kiss, Dean felt dizziness that had nothing to do with his concussion or being self-conscious in front of Sam.

“Um, ‘kay,” Dean agreed smartly, breathless. His eyes took a second to refocus on her. Then he nodded and added with a clearing of his throat. “Yes. I’d...really love that.”

“I love you,” Cas said plainly, nodding matter of factly. “And I forgive you. I’d like to attempt a relationship again, and I’d like you to be around Leia as she grows up.”

“Wanna fulfill your first fatherly duty by installing this carseat?” Sam asked lightly from near the back window. Dean looked back and saw in Sam’s hands was a large complicated contraption that had straps and buckles and… How hard could it be? “‘Cause I don’t know where to start.”

While it made his hands shake, Dean yanked off his seat belt and opened the door once Cas stepped back to allow him to. As he climbed out, to his chagrin Cas and Sam looked amused. Too amused.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Dean muttered. “I can figure it out.”

“You’re sweating already,” Sam pointed out, grinning. Dean flipped him the bird.

Beside him, Cas began unting the wrap from her torso, also smirking. “I’ll do it. I know how to install a carseat.” And after Sam and Dean exchanged raised brows, impressed, Cas added, “Dean, can you hold your daughter, please?”

Sam’s face went all soft and he smiled, the skin around his eyes going crinkly. Dean realised he probably had a pretty soft looking expression on his face too. Damn Sam for noticing.

After some maneuvering, Dean pulled Leia away from Cas’ back and into his arms. His girl was tired like the dead, because she merely grunted for a moment, rubbed her face into Dean’s shoulder and then relaxed. She was a limp noodle in his arms, snuggled against his skin and Dean felt a rush of warmth through his entire body that ended with a stinging behind his eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” Dean grunted at Sam as Sam got teary too, struggling to hand Cas the seat and stare at Dean at the same time. When Cas took it, Sam wiped at his eyes but then rushed to open the door for her. While they busied themselves installing the car seat--Cas working on it, while Sam watched and pointed out mechanics of the Impala--Dean looked back down at his daughter, turning away from an audience.

“Hey,” he murmured against her head, finally able to hold her like he wanted to. Instinct placed his lips on her head and one hand stroking the soft, tender skin on the back of her neck. He bounced her a bit, walking loftily around the car. “Daddy’s got you. Ain’t nothing gonna try to hurt you, or eat you, or...I guess, I dunno, mutate you into a scaly monster-thing. I’m gonna take you back to the bunker we’ve got, and we’re gonna buy you so much stuff. Toys, and like, freakin’ binkies out the ying yang, and you’ll have any room you want when you’re older. And I’m gonna get stuff for your mom too--though we both know she could hustle and get her own stuff, but you know what I’m saying…”

Okay, so he wasn’t sure what to say to a baby, but Leia was his. He realised he could say whatever. He could say whatever, and be whatever, and raise her however he and Cas wanted. He didn’t have to be his dad, he didn’t have to be his mom, he didn’t have to be anyone but Leia’s dad. Quickly, the embarrassment of Sam catching him looking at his daughter all softly faded away. He would not be his dad. He’d spoil this kid rotten and treat her with respect, and give her freedom and autonomy. He wouldn't be embarrassed for showing her he loved her.

So Dean chattered to her a bit louder, even though she was sleeping, not caring who heard. He told her about the Impala, and about the Zchitri, and about the angels. He stroked her back and wiggled his finger into her palm, teeth gnawing on his lip happily when her tiny fingers curled around it in her sleep.

“...I was lookin’ at the blueprints, and I suspect there’s a garage somewhere. I just gotta find it. Maybe we’ll go on an adventure to find it,” he proposed, his brows raising. He patted Leia’s back gently as he pondered. “Could be fun. We have a shooting range too, which seems like, kinda ridiculous, right? But pretty cool. It’s soundproof...kinda. Guess I’ll have to keep it down when you’re napping. Maybe I’ll nap while you nap, or--”

“She sleeps like the dead.”

Dean turned as Cas’ voice came from right beside his ear. He smiled; she was right in his personal space, just like old times. Too close, almost nose to nose, the tips of shoes--dress shoes traded in for converse--bumping his.

“Really,” Cas reassured, holding her arms out. “I told you, she won’t wake. The first two months of her life she went to sleep to the dull sound of our neighbours playing loud rock music at all hours of the day..” Cas scowled, recalling bitter memories. “And night.”

Dean held Leia closer and he asked, glancing over at the car, “Uh, you mind if I hold her for a bit longer?”

Cas smiled, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips. “She’ll have to go in that seat, Dean.”

“Then can I sit in the back with her?”

“WHAT?” Sam yelped from the driver’s seat, too astonished to continue pretending he wasn’t eavesdropping. “You wanna sit in the back of your own car? Have you ever even been back there?!”

Instead of recounting to Sam the not-safe-for-work details of his many encounters with the Impala’s backseat, Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and turned back to Cas.

To his surprise, he turned back to her and she grabbed him by the shirt. With a hand buried in his shirt, she pulled him the two inches between them towards her, and she kissed him again.

“Gross,” Sam said from the car. “Is that going to happen a lot or…”

Cas pulled away from Dean, licking her lips. She pressed a quick peck to his chin and whispered, “Shotgun.”

Dean laughed all the way back to the car, not having the heart to tell her she didn’t need to claim shotgun if it was already implied she’d be getting the front seat. But he let her show him how to buckle Leia in, and he slid in next to his child.

Cas did indeed sit shotgun, and he had to admit, she looked good in it. Sam eventually pulled onto the road out of town and let Cas roll down the window, even though usually Sam bitched about the wind messing up his hair. Her hair blew around her face, and Dean watched her in the side mirror, her head tilted back, her blue eyes watching the trees blur by them. Her hand dangled out the window, her fingers spread to feel the wind between them, no doubt.

Cas looked happy.

She looked like she was going home.

Dean looked down at his daughter and felt his heart swell infinitely as he realised she was awake. The same pair of blue eyes gazed out the window, also watching the trees zoom by, and from her vantage point, probably a few fluffy white clouds too.

“We’re going home,” Dean murmured to her, wiggling his finger in her grasp. He hummed contently when she gave the finger a squeeze, and he looked up at Cas. To his surprise, she was already watching him, eyes turned away from the trees to find Dean’s stare. Dean grinned at her. “Goin’ home?”

Cas winked and nodded, reaching up to pull blowing hair from her eyes.

“Yes, Dean. We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. <3 Let me know what you thought in the comments below.
> 
> Also, please go leave Nathy some love too at her art masterpost: https://nathyfaith.tumblr.com/post/186177540988/deancas-mini-bang-fanart-for-the-upcoming-fic 'cause wasn't it just adorable!?

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment because I love them with all my little black heart and soul. They spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round.


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